


Alcatraz

by tobeconspicuous



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mandy makes an appearance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shameless Big Bang, Slow Burn, guard!Ian, prisoner!Mickey, really slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/pseuds/tobeconspicuous
Summary: Alcatraz is the most secure prison in the world, inescapable, that's what everyone is told. Mickey Milkovich however, has always enjoyed a challenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All,
> 
> Words cannot describe how nervous I am posting this. Alcatraz has always fascinated me and I was lucky enough to visit the site in April this past year.
> 
> Firstly I have never participated in or written anything like this, this is also my first foray into the Shameless Fandom. If I've missed anything in my tags please let me know. This is also un-BETA'd and I am Australian, so any mistakes are mine, if you find them please let me know.
> 
> Secondly the escape from prison aspect. I started writing this prior to that particular story line being announced and played out for Mickey. So I hope you don't hold it against me.
> 
> Finally, a big thank you to the-rat-wins for her wonderful art. She was truly a pleasure to work with. Please check out her fabulous works!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Maggie

_ _

 

_U.S.P., ALCATRAZ_

_REVISED 1956_

_INMATE Reg. NUMBER,_ _**1441** _

_This set of Institution Regulations is issued to you as Institutional Equipment. You are required to keep it in your cell at all times._

 

 

 

 **January 20** **th** **1960**

  

_53\. GENERAL RULE: Though not mentioned in these rules, any disorder, act or neglect to the prejudice of good order and discipline, and any conduct which disturbs the orderly routine of the institution shall be taken cognizance of by the Warden or his representative, according to the nature and degree of the offense, and punished at the discretion of the Warden or other lawful authority._

'There she is...'

As the boat slowly rocked, Mickey Milkovich watched as the island rose from the fog, large and foreboding. His entire life, an abusive father, a childhood spent in and out of prison, a few escape attempts, seemed to lead him here. To Alcatraz.

As the boat crept closer and closer to the legendary prison his fellow convicts were beginning to get antsy. Whispers of sharks infested waters were enough to deter the prisoners from jumping into the ocean. Their hands were also cuffed to the boat railing and their feet shackled, an added precaution. After all, they were the worst of the worst.

After an age a whistle sounded, signaling the docking of the boat. Mickey heaved a sigh of relief, after a rocky boat ride and several “shark sightings” he was looking forward to having his feet firmly planted on land. The boat slowly moved alongside a man made jetty, the men flung long ropes to help anchor the boat to the shore.

The prisoner's watched as more guards approached the boat, what little chatter that had occurred during their journey from the mainland died down completely. All that could be heard were hushed echos of the guards, discussing what would occur next. 

'Listen up,' One of the guards, shouted over the silence. 'We will uncuff you from the boat shortly, but your feet will remain shackled until we reach the prison. Freedom to walk around the island unshackled is a privilege which must be earned. Any violence towards myself or my colleagues will be met with retaliation and you will be immediately sent to isolation. Any questions?' He received the expected response, silence. 'We will begin.'

The guards proceeded to slowly uncuff each of the prisoners, once free each of them had a moment to flex their hands and rub their raw wrists. The freedom only lasted a second before they were recuffed and lead off the boat and onto the dock. Mickey looked around, apart from a few small buildings there wasn't much about. 

He felt himself being yanked forward into a march and he and his fellow imates were pushed through what appeared to be an old military structure, Mickey could imagine a tank sitting in the corner to intimidate prisoner's of war. And then they began the long steep climb up towards the actual prison itself.

As they reached the top Mickey could make out the figures of six guards standing in front of a large building and door, he could only assume that this was the entrance. None of the guards appeared to be armed, but Mickey had heard that the guards here were well trained and not to be messed with. They were dressed in blue uniforms, all stood heads over the brunette man. Though this wasn't difficult, Mickey was shorter than average, had a stocky build, black hair and blue eyes. He was nothing special, at least that's what he was always told. 

Without ceremony the prisoners were ushered through the large solid steal door, Mickey noted it appeared to have an electric lock. The door was soon closed behind them and they were left standing together in a small, lit room. Mickey heard a creaking sound, he slowly looked up and watched as a key was lowered towards one of the guards. The guard grabbed the key and opened a barred door in front of the group, they were shortly shuffled through into another room.

 

_1\. GOOD CONDUCT means conducting yourself in a quiet and orderly manner and keeping your cell neat, clean and free from contraband. It means obeying the rules of the Institution and displaying a co-operative attitude. It also means obeying orders of Officials, Officers and other employees without delay or argument._

 

One by one the guards uncuffed and unshackled the prisoners. Mickey was handed a cardboard box and was pointed towards a guard. After a moment the brunette made his way towards the uniformed man.

'Please put down your box,' The guard asked, Mickey followed. 'Name?'

'Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich,' Mickey stated blandly.

'You have been designated prisoner number 2112,' the guard stated handing Mickey a plaque with his number on it. 'We will take your identity photo's. Stand against the wall and hold the number up to your collar bone.'

'I know the drill,' Mickey rolled his eyes and sauntered over to the wall. He held the number up to his breast and scowled, a bright flash went off.

'Turn to the side,' The guard behind the camera stated. 'Hold the number up at shoulder height.' Mickey turned and held the number up as instructed, another flash went off and a guard quickly approached him and grabbed the number. 'Grab your box and stand to the side with the others.'

Mickey nodded and made his way to the wall. He watched the others get photographed, all of them having the same photo's taken again and again. Once they were done the guards ushered them into yet another room, the doors were securely locked behind them.

'Please remove all your clothes and belongings,' Peterson boomed. 'Please place them in the empty box assigned to you. Please carry these boxes with you, they will be collected once you have been formally searched. You will receive these upon your release or transfer to another facility.' 

Mickey grabbed his box and eagerly stripped his clothes off. He had been traveling in the same clothes for days, they stank and itched. He dumped his belongings into his box and then was marched into another room. He was poked and prodded by two guards, they searched every nook and cranny, leaving no crevice unscathed.

Finally he and his fellow prisoners were moved into the shower block. Along one wall was a line of piles of clothing, they were told to leave their own belongings along the apposite wall. Finally they were directed to step into the shower area where they were greeted with warm water and soap. Mickey was so relieved to scrub the muck and the grime off of his body, he could see brpwn water pool at his feet as it ran down his body. Suddenly the water was shut off eliciting a groan from the inmates as they were left standing wet and shivering with cold.

'Silence!' A guard shouted. He looked around to confirm that no one was speaking, he then nodded to another guard who opened yet another door. 

A stocky man entered the room, he was tall and broad. His light brown hair was receding, showing off a shiny enlarged forehead. His face was large, and so were his ears and nose.

 

 

_5\. PRIVILEGES. You are entitled to food, clothing, shelter and medical attention. Anything else that you get is a privilege. You earn your privileges by conducting yourself properly. "Good Standing" is a term applied to inmates who have a good conduct record and a good work record and who are not undergoing disciplinary restrictions._

 

'My name is Warden Blackwell,' The warden began, his voice sounded and pompous as he looked. 'I welcome you to Alcatraz. Please note along the wall are piles of clothing, on each one is an assigned number, these are your personal belongings until you are handed others. Please only take the pile assigned to you.' The prisoners walked over and located their specific piles. 'When you reach your cells on your bed will be a copy of the rules and regulations of Alcatraz, please read them carefully. If you behave you will be rewarded with privileges such as external correspondence and visitors. If you don't you will be punished as I see fit.'

Mickey had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, he also noticed his fellow prisoner's also had grim smiles plastered on their faces. Usually guards were quick to punish and Warden's rarely stepped in, they could only assume the same would occur in the prison which housed the “worst of the worst”.

'I hope to not have to address any of you again,' The warden continued stiffly before he turned to indicate a tall brunette standing next to him. 'You will be further briefed by Associate warden Dollison.'

'You have been issued the following items,' Dollison shouted. 'One pair of black and white pants, one cap, one wool coat, one blue shirt, one belt, one pair of shorts, one bathrobe, three pairs of socks, two handkerchiefs, one rain coat, two pairs of shoes, one pair of slippers, and one light undershirt. On request we will provide you with one wool undershirt.' He turned and surveyed the wet prisoners. 'Please dry off and get dressed, and we will assign you to your cells.'

Mickey quickly dressed himself and collected the leftover items of clothing. The group of prisoners were then marched single file up a set of stairs which lead them to a huge room lined with cells. The guards lined them up against the wall and one by one called their numbers and their name. Each time a prisoner was called you could hear the grind of a cell door opening and then closing once he was safe inside. When Mickey was finally called he was walked up a flight of stairs and was led into the cell that would be his home until deemed otherwise.

 

–

 

 **June 20** **th** **1960, Six Months Later**

 

_3\. YOUR GOOD CONDUCT RECORD AND YOUR GOOD WORK RECORD will be reviewed every time you are considered for work assignments, cell changes, and disciplinary action._

Six months. It had been six months and Mickey Milkovich was already going insane. The first three months were spent locked in his cell, only being let out to eat and the occasional shower. He was so relieved to be moved to a ground cell in B block on what the other inmates referred to as Broadway. But three months on his life was once again quiet and boring.

A shrill whistle went off signaling that it was about 6:30 in the morning. The brunette forced himself out of bed, he stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. Six months and he still wasn't used to what they called beds. He looked around his cell, picking a few stray items up off the floor, and made the bed. He freshened himself up and then cleaned off his wash basin and toilet bowl. He folded up his personal table and lent his already folded small seat against the wall. He then quickly swept his floor and wiped down. Once everything looked clean he quickly changed into his clothes for the day.

'Looking good Milkovich,' Donny, another prisoner roughly twice Mickey's size whistled. His cell was directly opposite Mickey's.

'Fuck off,' Mickey bit back, flipping the larger man off.

Another whistle blew, signaling that it was 6:50. Mickey stood facing the bars of his cell, he lifted a single eyebrow at the prisoner opposite him, daring him to try something. The guards were making their first standing count of the day, Mickey's breath always caught in his throat as the guards walked past. Finally another whistle sounded and the cell doors opened. In unison all of the prisoners walked out of their cells and then proceeded to walk to the end of their rows in an orderly single line.

And then there's yet another whistle, Mickey and his fellow inmates are lead into the gas chamber (also known as the dining room) in sections. Once seated they would sit with their hands at their sides until the signal is given to eat. This was chaotic as they are only allowed twenty minutes to finish their meal. Mickey couldn't begrudge them though, the food was positively sinful, the best he had ever eaten in or out of prison.

Once everyone had finished eating, Mickey placed his knife, fork, and spoon in the compartment on his tray. Once everyone finished eating a guard inspected their trays, ensuring all utensils were accounted for. Mickey always hated that part, there were metal detectors at all entrances to the building, it would be difficult to remove any cutlery.

 

_21\. WORK. You are required to work at whatever you are told to do. Usually your first assignment will be to temporary maintenance jobs around the cell house. Other maintenance jobs include the Culinary Unit, the Clothing and Bath Room, the Library, and the Yard Detail. By doing good work on your maintenance assignment you earn Statutory Good Time. You may also qualify for additional Meritorious Good Time and/or pay, if your work and behavior are outstandingly good and are of outstanding value to the Institution. If you make a better than average work and conduct record while on your maintenance job, you may be considered for an assignment to a Federal Prison Industry Shop where you may earn Industrial Good Time and pay in addition to your Statutory Good Time._

 

Around 7:30 the prisoners were lead table by table into the recreation yard. This was Mickey's favorite part of the day as he got to build things. He was currently assigned to work in the model shop crafting items out of wood. Every morning as he and his fellow shop detail made their way through to their work assignment they were counted again. And then the shop foreman would count them once more, as though someone would try and escape in the few miles they marched from the main prison to the workshop.

 

_2\. GOOD WORK RECORD means the reputation you establish as a willing, capable workman, doing your best at whatever work you are told to do._

 

They worked for around two hours before being allowed a break to smoke and socialize. But they weren't allowed to group together, Mickey had been told that on exactly one occasion. He was told if he had to be told a second time they'd move him to something more physical with less time for talking. He never wanted to be told twice.

Eventually another signal sounded and they were back at work for another two hours, they are counted again, and the once more before they are marched back to the main building for their second meal of the day. After they eat they're all locked in their cells and counted again. Eventually they are unlocked and they proceed back to their work details. They work for a few hours then rest, then work again then rest, all the while they are being counted again and again by the foreman and the guards. Eventually the prisoners are walked into the dining hall for their final meals before being locked away in their cells. They have the evenings to themselves until the lights go out at 9:30.

From what Mickey has worked out there are roughly 13 counts made by the guards and six by the shop foremen. Sundays were different as there was no work details, but they were able to shower properly, have visitors and spend time in the recreation yard actually recreating.

When Mickey collapsed on his bed that evening at 9:30 he knew he had to get out of here. The prison was old and weather beaten, some of the walls were in disrepair. As Mickey looked at the chipped paint on his ceiling a grin began to slowly creep across his face. He was going to do the impossible. Mickey Milkovich was going to Escape from Alcatraz.

 

 

 

 **June 20** **th** **1961, Twelve Months Later**

 

_20\. RECREATION. As a general rule, you will work eight hours a day, five days a week, with Saturdays, Sundays and Holidays devoted to recreation. Movies are shown twice each month. Exercise Yard activities include baseball, handball and various table games. Newly arrived inmates are kept in Quarantine Status for 30 days and are not allowed recreation during that period._

 

The recreation yard was a large rectangular yard completely covered in concrete. There was a large concrete step like structure leading up the wall of the cell block providing limited seating for the prisoners. The yard itself was surrounded by tall walls patrolled by guards. Guards also walked amongst the prisoners preventing “fraternization” and any other forms of fun. Mickey eyed off the guards as they watched the prisoners in the yard. He couldn't get a read on them, some of them laughed and joked with one another as others held serious. He had spent months watching them and he could tell which guards were friendly, which were not. He could tell which guards took which shifts seriously and which ones didn't. He could read the guards like he could read his sister now.

He saw two men looking over at him and whispering, Mickey raised a single eyebrow at them before turning and walking away. He stood in the corner of the yard and lit up a cigarette, he watched as one of the two men raised a hand to the other and walked towards him. He lifted his cigarette, took a drag, and prepped himself for what may be a fight.

 

_YARD PRIVILEGES: Exercise yard rules:_

_All inmates in good standing are allowed the yard privilege on Saturdays, Sundays, and Holidays, if the weather permits. In addition, inmates who have completed their assigned tasks, or who have been "laid in" by detail foremen, or who have been "held in" for haircut, medical attention, interview or other Official business, may be allowed the yard privilege on weekday afternoons if they are otherwise eligible._

 

'You Milkovich?' The man was taller than he was, brunette with a long sunken face.

'Whose askin'?' Mickey took another puff of his cigarette and blew the smoke just to the left of the taller man.

 'John Anglin,' The taller man stuck out his hand for Mickey to shake. 'And that over there is my younger brother Clarence. West said that you were someone we could talk to about sailing?' 

'Sailing?' Mickey took another puff of his cigarette. He had briefly discussed the possibility of escaping with a fellow prisoner, Allen West, during their work in shop. West had talked about trying to get into the kitchen and Mickey had joked about smuggling silverware to help dig their way out. 'I am a sailing fan.'

 

_Inmates who are "restricted" or who are in "idle" status because they have quit a job, or refused a job, or were removed from a job for disciplinary reasons, are not eligible for weekday afternoon yard._

 

In theory Mickey's plan was simple, break out of cell, build raft, sail to one of the surrounding islands or land masses. However, finding a way out of the prison itself would take time even with the walls crumbling around them. Building a raft would take longer, and with guard patrols rotating through the night how long would it take for them to realize there were prisoner's missing from their beds? They would need to find a solution for that. 

And navigating the rocky waters surrounding the bay, the brunette shuddered at the idea. Yes he had experience on boats, mostly transporting goods, but even in the solid boat they had come in on the waters felt rough. Mickey raised a single brow and prompted Anglin to respond.

 

_Inmates held in for dental or hospital call may have yard after their appointments, subject to the Doctor's approval._

 

'Milkovich,' A guard shouted. 'Anglin, what are you doing over there?'

'Just bumming a smoke from Milkovich,' Anglin shouted back gesturing at Mickey's cigarette. 'And I was thinking of challenging him to a game of chess, any boards free?'

'I'll go have someone check for you,' The guard shouted back. 'Morrison, can you see if there is a chess set free for Milkovich and Anglin?'

 

_Inmates using cushions, tables or other institutional athletic equipment must return the same to the metal detector when recreation period is over._

 

Mickey watched as a blond guard threw him a glare before stalking off into the main cell block. He looked very familiar, as though Mickey has known him from a previous life, he shrugged the feeling off. Mickey turned back to the taller brunette and smirked at him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

'You owe me,' He muttered passing the taller man the cigarette and his matchbox. 'So.. Sailing? What do you want to know?'

'Well my brother and I are interested in island sailing,' Anglin lit the cigarette and passed the matchbox back to Mickey. 'You know anything like that?'

'You'd need to build a raft,' Mickey continued, pocketing his matchbox. 'You'd need to have paddles as well.'

'What if materials were scarce?' Anglin prodded. 'Any ideas what to use?'

'I'd need to know what was available,' the shorter man shrugged. 'Who will be building and what materials they had access to.' Mickey noticed the blond guard making his way through the other prisoners back towards him. 'We would also need to work out the conditions of sailing. What the weather was like, what time of day, the turns of the tide etcetera.'

'And how would you-'

'Milkovich,' The blond guard growled. 'Chess set.'

'Thanks,' Mickey took the box off the guard before turning to make his way to the stairs. He felt someone grab his arm.

 'Thank you what?' The blond guard huffed.

 ‘Thank you sir?' Mickey raised an eyebrow.

 ‘Don't you forget it,' The guard spat before releasing Mickey's arm.

'Morrison,' another guard shouted. 'Is everything okay?'

'Fine Jameson,' Morrison flashed a smile. 'Milkovich here was chatting back.' 

'Milkovich,' Jameson snapped. 'One warning or you're in the hole.'

'Yes sir,' Mickey forced, he looked away. 'Wont happen again sir.'

'Good man,' Jameson nodded. 'Morrison, other prisoners need attending to, let's go.' 

Morrison threw one final glare at Mickey before turning and walking away. The brunette rolled his eyes before walking towards a step and placing the chess board down. It had finally clicked, the blond had been a guard at a prison that he had formally been held in. The brunette's parting words may have not endeared him to the blond man, Morrison, he reminded himself. Mickey begun to set up the chess pieces, out of the corner of his eye he watched as Anglin and his brother walked over.

 

_No gambling is allowed. You may play chess, checkers or backgammon. Authorized card games are Hearts, Cribbage, and dominoes. No card game will be allowed if it is a "draw" type of game or does not use the full deck on the deal._

 

'Mickey this is Clarence,' John smiled. 'He's going to judge our match and make sure we're both playing honest.' 

'Sure he'll be fair?' Mickey smirked, raising an eyebrow.

'Course I will be,' The younger man smarted.

 

_All card tables will be set up behind the screens at the West-End of the yard. All games will cease immediately when the bell rings for the termination of the yard period. No loitering will be permitted to finish uncompleted hands or games._

 

'White or black?' Mickey offered.

'White,' Anglin grabbed his pieces and set up the board.

'So,' Mickey continued as Anglin made the first move. 'What do you want to know about sailing?'

 

 

 **September 20** **th** **1961, One Month Later**

 

_39\. WORK REGULATIONS: If you are assigned to an Industries shop, go to your place of work as stated in Section #28. Do not leave your assigned station in the shop without permission from your Foreman or Officer._

 

Mickey scowled as he was shuffled into the industries building. After weeks of discussion with West and the Anglin brothers they had finally worked out a plan. It had come to Mickey one evening when he noticed how the wall around the grate in his cell appeared to be crumbling faster than the outer ones. He spent thirty minutes chipping away at the grate of his cell, and as the stone slowly broke away he formed a plan.

They would chip away at the grates until they were big enough to fit through. Once in the center the prisoners would climb the maintenance pipes to the roof where they would be able to build a raft. One of the Anglin brothers suggested creating fake heads to leave in their beds whilst they were on the roof building their raft.

Once evening was ready they would escape. If the fake heads worked when building everything, they could use them to throw off the guards count and buy them some time. They could carry the raft down to the shoreline and paddle to safety. The plan would take months, it would be a long shot, odds of survival were slim, but Mickey and the brothers were excited.

 

_Work assignments are made by the Associate Warden. If you wish a work assignment or re-assignment, send a request slip to the Associate Warden and state your experience in the type of work you are requesting. Send a separate slip with this information for each job application. Work changes will not be made for trivial reasons. Your request will be considered only on the basis of merit, and then only when a vacancy exists. When in need of advice regarding your work or work assignment, consult the Associate Warden by interview slip._

 

Before they could begin chipping away at their cells, making the rafts or the heads they would need tools. And that was not what Mickey was looking forward to. It was Wests job to grab some digging implements, the Anglin brothers job to get the prison issued rubber raincoats and Mickey's job to get the glue. The glue was contraband, a prohibited substance, if he was caught with it he would most certainly do time in the hole and be put back on probation

 

_The regular work-reports submitted by your superiors, supervisors, foremen, shop Officer or other Official are taken into consideration at all hearings for other matters. Special attention is paid to work reports at your hearings before Board meetings for consideration of restoration of forfeited good-time, transfer, parole reports, clemency and/or work changes. Do not take issue with an Officer, foreman, supervisor or civilian employee on account of any order he may issue to you. If it should seem to you that such person is exceeding his authority or abusing his office, do not argue. Follow his instructions and report the matter to the Associate Warden after the duty is performed._

 

He worked solidly through the afternoon, he focused on building a new table for one of the guards. He enjoyed working with his hands, and the cutting and sculpting of wood made him relax. All too soon it was time for a smoke break, Mickey needed to put his plan into action.

'Sir,' He called out. 'I'm out of glue.' He wasn't. 'Can I grab some more?'

'Slow down Milkovich,' the foremen chuckled. 'Go have a smoke and relax for a while. You can collect more glue when you get back.'

 'Thanks sir,' Mickey grinned. “much appreciated.'

 

_Smoking is permitted in designated areas. If in doubt, ask your foreman or Officer._

 

Mickey headed outside and lit up a cigarette, the tobacco that spread through his lungs felt like bliss. He steadied his shaking hands with thoughts of escape and how it was closer than ever. But all too soon his break was over and he was herded back into the carpentry shop with the other workers.

 

_Do not carry any unauthorized articles to or from your place of work. Do not carry work clothing from the work area to the cellhouse. Removing tools or other articles from your work area is forbidden. Do not loan any tools or other work material to any inmate without the express approval of your superiors._

 

He went to the counter and collected two bottles of glue before returning to his bench. He quickly looked around before noticing that no one was watching. He quickly tucked the glue bottle against his right thigh, inserting it into a make shift holster he had crafted earlier. He then tucked the second bottle against his left in the same manor. He then continued to work solidly for what felt like an age. And then after taking a deep breath, he sliced his palm open on the saw, the final part of plan coming to fruition.

 

_Immediately report any injury received while at work. If you become ill, report to your foreman._

 

'Shit,' Mickey gasped, clutching his hand.

'Milkovich,' the foreman growled. 'Let's have a look.' He took Mickey's hand. 'Oh lord, you may need stitches. Let me get someone to take you up to the hospital.'

Mickey looked around and found a clean looking piece of cloth and held it against the palm of his hand and waited for the foreman to return. The other prisoners were laughing at him and shaking their heads while they continued to work.

'Milkovich,' the foreman shouted. 'Morrison will escort you.'

 

_Do not manufacture any unauthorized or contraband article, nor perform any unauthorized service for yourself or for any other inmate. Do not assist or interfere with another inmate's work except as directed by an Officer or foreman._

 

'Let's go Milkovich,' Mickey nodded as he felt the blond man grab his arm and drag him forward. 'Why is it always you?'

Mickey and Morrison had several altercations since the one in the recreation yard all those weeks ago. The brunette had no idea why the blond was so hostile towards him, he tried not to antagonize the guard too much but sometimes he couldn't help himself.

 'I think you've taken a liking to me,' the brunette smirked. 'Must be my pretty blue eyes.'

Morrison thew Mickey to the ground and kicked him in the ribs. Mickey wheezed and coughed up blood.

'Talk back to me again and we'll have a problem,' Morrison spat at him. 'Do you understand?'

 'Yes,' Mickey coughed, earning himself another kick.

'Do you understand?' the blond growled.

 'Yes _sir_ ,' the brunette winced.

'Good,' He then helped the beaten man to his feet. 'Now lets get you to the hospital wing.'

 

-

 

When Mickey was finally returned to his cell he breathed a sigh of relief. His ribs were bruised, his hand was stitched and sore, but the glue was safe. That evening just before bed time he loosened the grate at the back of his cell and removed the glue from his thighs. He reached behind the hole and stuffed the glue to the side before fixing the grate back into the wall.

Eventually the hole would be big enough to fit through. Eventually he would build a raft. Eventually he would escape Alcatraz. With those thoughts on his mind, even though he was heavily wounded, he slept better than he had ever before. He dreamed of freedom, of his family, and a life outside of prison.

 

 

 **January 20** **th** **1962, Five Months Later**

 

Ian Gallagher could not believe he was being given this chance, he had been selected to work as a guard on Alcatraz Island. Throughout his career he was told that the worst criminals, the irredeemable, were sent to Alcatraz and only the best were chosen to guard them. Some may call him cocky, but Ian was proud that he was considered one of the best.

As a guard of Alcatraz he was able to land a family apartment on the Island. His siblings Fiona and Liam would be able to live with him and it would cost practically nothing for the three of them. Fiona would be able to hold a job on the main land and between Ian and Fiona they could enroll their brother in a good school, Liam would be able to finish his education.

Ian had come from a large family, and though he didn't see them often, his other siblings were doing well for themselves. Lip was off building bombs or something for the Government, Debbie had married young and was raising a family, Carl was traveling the country with his traveler girlfriend. All the Gallagher children seemed to be doing well for themselves.

When his first day on the job finally came Ian woke early, he put on his freshly pressed uniform, kissed his sister on the cheek as he stole a slice of toast and ruffled his younger brother's hair. He left the apartment and made his way to the top of the residential block where a truck waited for him and his fellow recruits.

Ian hopped on the back and nodded to his new colleagues and listened to their idle chatter as the vehicle began to move. As the truck drove the men up the hill and towards the prison, the chatter between the new recruits died as they were swamped by the large, intimidating structure. Ian felt a chill run down his spine, even as a guard he was awed by the building in front of him.

They were directed to move out of the truck and into the building, Ian looked over his shoulder and across to the city of San Francisco. In the early morning sun the city glistened like a diamond, he could just hear the distant bustle of city life over the sounds of the ocean and island life. Soon he was dragged from his thoughts as he and his fellow guards were pulled into a room and told to sit.

Ian looked around the room, everyone seemed to be excited and eager to begin their training. The door crashed open and a tall brunette man walked into the room. Ian felt himself and his colleagues sit up straight.

'I am associate Wardon Willard,' The man began, he paced back in forth in front of the men. 'You will be under my tutelage over the next two months before you are released to active duty. You have all worked in prisons before, but not like this. This prison is the most secure in the world, though we have had multiple escape attempts none have succeeded.

'Over the next months you will learn what it is to be a guard at Alcatraz. The prisoner's are rough, the conditions on the island are rougher. We expect both our Guards and our prisoner's to show good conduct, lead by example here. Conduct yourselves in a quiet and orderly manor and the prisoner's will follow your lead. Any questions?'

'How much are we charged for food and board?' A small voice piped up from behind Ian.

'When on duty you will eat alongside the inmates,' Willard continued. 'You will be charged from your pay ten cents a meal. Board will be charged depending on the size of your accommodations, you can take that up with administration. Only family members will be allowed on the island, so if you want to see your girl on a daily basis, marry her.' The men chuckled to themselves.

'Will we be assigned permanent shifts?' Another man asked.

'You will have a variety of assignments and work schedules,' Willard grunted. 'To keep things interesting you will rotate through your duties weekly, but your main duties will be rotated quarterly.'

'What will our duties be?' Ian questioned, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

 'This will be addressed fully over the following weeks,' Willard looked at Ian and smirked. 'But to give you a basic idea you could be sitting on top of one of the towers all night, peering into the darkness keeping an eye out for misbehaving or escaping prisoner's. Or you could be surrounded by hundreds of inmates in the recreation yard, breaking up the many inevitable altercations that happen there. You could end up tapping cell bars with a mallet and checking to see if they've been cut or altered, searching laundry for contraband, counting inmates during the day or night. Patrolling any of the gun galleries, observing inmates at services or while they watch movies, as you can tell the list of duties will go on and on. 

'You will receive extensive training,' his eyes raked over the new recruits. 'If you decide the conditions to be too harsh for your liking you can leave at anytime. If I decide or are advised that you are not up to the task at any time you will be dismissed. However,' his grin was mean. 'If you do make it through training and become a guard you will be well compensated. You will be paid well and awarded privileges that guards within normal prisons do not get to experience. Now are there any more questions?' None of the fresh recruits raised their hands. 'Excellent, now stand to attention as the Warden addresses you.'

Ian felt his posture stiffen as the Warden stepped forward, he could see his fellow recruits do the same. The Warden's harsh gaze passed over all the new guards, it was piercing and judgmental. Ian felt a shiver run up his spine.

'My name is Olin Blackwell,' The Warden begun, his voice commanding. 'Please do not share that with the prisoners. When Warden Johnston ran this prison he drew up careful, detailed procedures for taking official counts and unlocking and locking cells in the morning, at noon, and at the end of the day, these are the rules you are all expected to follow.

'When I am not present the deputy or associate warden is in command. Each morning he will ready the guards and give you any and all required signals. His position will always be at the east end of the cell house, between blocks Band C. The lieutenant of the watch takes a position at the west end of the cell house, between blocks Band C; there he receives reports of count from the guards. As guards you will take your assigned positions, ready to take the count when the signal is given. On signal, the count is started on the south side of block B and the north side of block C.

'As you complete your count you will go to the west end of the cell block and report to the lieutenant. The count must be accurate and the report must be made as soon as it is ready. After you report your count you will make your way back to your starting position. Once each guard has returned to his position a whistle will signal. Upon the whistle signal, guards open the cells in the same order of movement as when taking count. After the prisoners have stepped out of their cells, the deputy warden and the lieutenant will give hand signals for locking the cells. Once the cells have been locked a second whistle will sound. The second whistle is the signal to start prisoners moving in an orderly manner to the dining hall or yard. Any questions?'

Ian felt overwhelmed by the amount of information he just received, he was sure his colleagues felt the same way. The warden looked around, a single eyebrow made and a smirk across his face.

'Well then gentlemen,' He continued when none of the new recruits responded. 'Welcome to Alcatraz.'

 

 

 **March 13** **th** **1962, Several weeks later**

 

_DINING ROOM RULES: Meals are served three times a day in the dining room. Do not exceed the ration. Do not waste food. Do not carry food from the dining room. Wear standard uniform. (See Section #32)._

 

'Hey, hey, Milkovich!' 

_Conduct yourself in a quiet, orderly manner. You may converse in normal tones with persons near you. Boisterous conduct will not be tolerated in the dining room._

'Anglin,' Mickey hissed as he walked towards the menu board. 'Quiet.'

'Sorry Mickey,' John hung his head. 'Clarence and I have a couple of questions.'

 

_Observe the ration posted on the menu board and take all that you wish to eat within the allotted amounts, but you must eat all that you take._

 

Mickey noticed the younger man's tray was full of food, his brother was already seated at a table.

'Let me grab a coffee before I deal with this shit,' Mickey scooped up his food and headed to the coffee urn.

 

_You may go to the coffee urn on your side of the dining room only when no other inmate is there. Do not go to the urn for the purpose of visiting with others._

 

Once he grabbed his coffee he strutted over to where the Anglin brothers were seated. He slid onto the bench opposite them and started to shovel food into his mouth.

'What?' He barked at the brothers.

 'Here,' John said, Mickey felt the other man's hand on his knees.

 

_Do not pass or exchange food, cigarettes, notes or any other items anywhere in the dining room._

 

'What's this?' Mickey raised an eyebrow.

'Some more liquid cement,' John said, he finished his final mouthful. He put his cutlery away.

 

_You will be given ample time to eat but no loitering will be permitted._

 

'I wont be able to help out tonight,' Clarence sniffed, making Mickey shudder.

'Why not?' the brunette raised an eyebrow.

'My hole isn't big enough to crawl through yet.'

'Clarence,' John scowled. 'You've had months, Milkovich and I have been doing all the work.' He looked round the table. 'Ahh shit, I didn't get a fork.'

 

_Shortages of silverware at the table must be reported to the Officer immediately before beginning to eat. After you have finished eating, place your silverware in the right hand compartment of your tray._

 

'And there goes any help you'll be,' Mickey shook his head before signaling a guard over. 'Hey you! Anglin here doesn't have a fork.'

'He can use his fingers,' The guard, Ryan jeered.

'Well fuck you too,' Mickey growled before speaking up again. 'Just don't blame him when he doesn't return his fork.'

'All punishments are up to the associate warden,' Ryan snapped back. 'Now eat your meals.'

Mickey shoveled the rest of the food into his mouth and burped loudly. His face split into a grin as the guard turned to look at him and scowled. Mickey wiggled his eyebrows and his cutlery. As the guard stalked towards him Mickey placed his cutlery in the right compartment and turned to face the brothers.

'Milkovich,' Ryan growled, he yanked Mickey back by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him off the bench. 'Show some respect-'

'Look lively gentleman,' Another guard shouted causing Ryan to let Mickey go. 'The Warden is approaching.'

 Mickey scowled as he hit the floor, he quickly pulled himself upright and sat back down at the table. He eyed the Anglin brothers as the Warden entered the room, he was followed by six young men.

'Well well well,' John whispered. 'Fresh meat.' 

Mickey eyed the five newcomers as the Warden appeared to be pointing to the various areas of the gas chamber. They all looked too cocky, that would change after a few weeks on duty when they realized what really happened at the prison. Mickey smirked at them before turning back to the Anglin brothers.

'We done?' the brunette asked, cocking an eyebrow. As the brothers nodded Mickey put his cutlery away. 'Good, we'll check back in a week.'

 

_Empty bread, cake or pie trays and pitchers will be passed to the end of the table toward the center of the Dining Room. Inmates seated at that end of the table will arrange them for inspection by the officer assigned to the table._

 

As the whistle blew for clean up the inmates proceeded to scoff their food before clearing the tables. The newest guards observed before leaving to be shown the next part of the prison.

'Probably being led into the yard,' Clarence scowled. 'Need to be shown how to keep us in line right?'

'You reckon this lot will beat us?' John whispered, a grin slowly crept across his face. 'Bash our heads in?'

'Nah,' Mickey rolled his eyes. 'I think most of these guys wont last out the year.'

 

_When all inmates on a table have finished eating, the inspecting Officer will give the signal to rise and leave the dining room. Proceed in single file directly to your cell. Enter your cell without delay. Do not loiter or visit on the galleries. Do not enter another inmate's cell at any time. Cell door will be locked as soon as you enter your cell._

 

–

 

 **March 20** **th** **1962, Seven Days later**

 

_37\. MOVEMENT OF INMATES: All inmate movements will be by block and galleries, to yard, work, meals, sick-line, band room and bathline. Movements will be from cells to West End of the Cellhouse and then to destination. Movements to picture shows and Religious Services will be from cells to East End of cellhouse and then to Auditorium. All movements from yard will be by galleries. Inmates will line up by cellblocks and galleries in the designated areas on the yard and proceed to the cellhouse as called by the Yard Officer. While awaiting the signal for your gallery to come in, do not wander around in other gallery lines, or indulge in scuffling or jostling with others. Industries and other "outside" details will return to the cellhouse without lining-up in the yard._

 

It was finally Ian's first shift, it was a Saturday morning and he was awake far earlier than he would like. He rolled out of bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and began to ready himself. As he put on his cleanly pressed blue guard uniform a smile formed. He finally felt like he was getting somewhere.

He quietly made himself breakfast before walking out the door. The other guards on shift were making their way to the main cell block, Ian followed them nodding in acknowledgment when one looked his way. When they finally arrived he was beckoned to the front by the associate warden. He recognized one of the other men in his training session.

'Gentlemen,' Willard begun. 'These are our two newest recruits, Officer Gallagher and Officer Archer. They have been lucky enough to draw the morning shower shift as their first shift.' The other guards chuckled. 'Morrison, you'll be looking after Gallagher. Hastings, you'll be looking after Archer. Any questions?' The two mentioned guards shook their heads. 'Excellent.' he turned to face the new recruits. 'listen to what these men tell you, they will reconfirm everything you learned in training. If you don't impress them, you're gone. Understood?'

'Yes Sir!' Ian eagerly nodded, his fellow trainee shortly followed.

'Get to it then,' Willard finished before turning on his heal and leaving the room.

'Gallagher,' Morrison walked over to him. 'Come with me.'

Morrison was slightly shorter than Ian, blond with blue eyes and chiseled features. Far too pretty to be working out at Alcatraz.

'What brings you to The Rock?' Morrison began as he lead Ian away from the front entrance.

'Money,' Ian flashed a smile. He notices a small frown appear on the shorter mans face, he quickly changed tact. 'I always wanted to join the military, unfortunately due to circumstances I had to help out at home. Being a correctional officer was the next best thing. What about yourself?'

'Family also,' Morrison shrugged, they had reached the cell block doors.

The shorter man raked his eyes over Ian's muscular form, his tongue darted out to lick pale thin lips. Ian smirked to himself, he was going to have no issues being found suitable.

'Now walk me through the door control mechanism.'

It was time to put theory into practice.

 

\--

 

'Ready to go?' Morrison questioned, the taller red head nodded in response. 'The call will start soon.'

Ian breathed in deeply and nodded his head. His hands were shaking, his breath erratic. It was now or never, sink or swim. 

'I have faith in you,' Morrison cocked an eyebrow. 'You have the doors down pat, you know what to say, now just collect yourself and do it as practiced.' 

Ian nodded at Morrison as the other guards filtered into the room, they all looked at Ian and smiled, smirked, or shook their heads. He just smiled back before turning to face the guard platform, he watched as a set of keys was lowered into the cell block. The lieutenant on duty, Jameson, took the key ring and then proceeded to hand the keys out. Morrison took their row's key, opened the cell door control mechanism box and returned the key to Jameson. It was a long wait for the other guards to do the same thing.

'How brave are you feeling Gallagher?' Jameson smiled at Ian. 'Doors or Calls?' 

'He'll be calling,' Morrison answered for him. 'Give him the hardest stuff first right?' 

'Right,' Ian nodded before taking his place at the end of the row. Morrison stood tall in front of the box containing the door mechanism. Ian watched as the other officers climbed the stairs readying to take their positions, once everyone had come to a stop they all waited with baited breath.

Associate warden Willard entered the cell block and eyed off the guards, he threw a small nod at Ian. He then turned to Jameson, took they keys off Jameson and counted them. He then walked over to the key hook and placed them back on, the keys slowly rose back into the guard box. Willard then stood in his position, Jameson nodded and then walked to the opposite end of the cell block.

'Ready Gallagher?' Willard turned to Ian.

'Ready,' Ian confirmed, turning to face his row.

'Prisoner's face your doors,' Willard shouted, Ian repeated the command. 

The red head's stomach sunk, his voice has been shaky and not as strong as he would have liked. Morrison grinned at him and nodded for him to continue. He slowly made his way down the cell block, checking that each prisoner was standing facing the bars of his cells. As he walked past he could feel the criminals eyes on him, probably judging him to see how weak he was. After what felt like an age he reached the end of the row, he turned on his heal in perfect sync with the other guards before walking towards Jameson to report his count. He then returned to the end of his row and waited for the other guards to report their counts. Once everyone was ready they proceeded back down their rows. Ian felt far more confidence as he headed back towards Morrison, this time he looked over each and every prisoner, his face held stern and showed more confidence. By the time he reached his starting point he was ready for the next command.

'Doors open,' Willard shouted, his voice echoing. 'Collect your soiled clothing, step out, and toe the line.'

'Doors open,' Ian repeated, his voice was steadier this time. 'Collect your soiled clothing, step out, and toe the line.' 

Ian watched as in perfect sync all the prisoner's who were showering stepped out of their cells, laundry clutched in their hands, and stood in a perfectly straight line.

'Well done Gallagher,' Morrison grinned at him. 'Now lead your prisoner's to the shower block, I'll follow you down shortly.'

Ian nodded before directing the start of the line to start moving. He had passed the first test, the rest would be soon to follow.

 

-

 

_29\. BATH ROOM RULES: Bathing and laundry exchange are scheduled for mainline bath inmates every Tuesday afternoon and Saturday morning._

 

Mickey lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. His fellow prisoners were enjoying their Saturday morning sleep in, but he was wide awake. Logically he knew he should be focusing on sleeping as much as he can during the day, but his mind was filled with dreams if the outside world and escape.

He would look after his family, protect his sister, buy a nice property, maybe even a farm, in the middle of nowhere. He would live the rest of his days in peace and quiet, unassuming and unnoticeable. He would forever leave behind the prison and his life as a number.

A familiar whistle sounded and the lights went on, dragging Mickey out of his daydreams. Mickey quickly got out of bed and cleaned his cell. He grabbed his soiled clothing and placed them at the foot of his newly made bed.

'Prisoner's face your doors,' Willard shouted.

A shakier than usual voice followed the Deputy Warden's command. Mickey smirked, clearly they were breaking in the newbies today. Mickey almost felt sorry for the poor guy, showers almost always ended poorly, someone was usually knocked out or stabbed. Not a great way to start his shifts at the prison.

Mickey stood straighter as he heard footsteps walk towards his cell, his tattooed hands firm by his side. He watched as the newest guard walked past his cell. He was several inches taller than Mickey, with a muscular figure. But what really caught the brunette's eye was the bright red hair escaping from underneath the back of the guards cap.

He'd always had a thing for red heads.

Mickey listened out as in perfect unison the guards turned and walked back down their designated rows. As the red headed guard walked past, Mickey let himself drink in his handsome features, it made his cock twitch. He thought it was a shame that someone with that face and that physique was a guard and not a prisoner with him. They may have been able to have some fun together. A few moments later the red head disappeared from sight, his steps faded and new orders were shouted.

'Doors open,' Willard bellowed.

'Doors open,' the red head repeated, his voice sounded firmer this time. He was in perfect unison with the other guards.

As the doors opened, Mickey felt a shiver run down his spine. No matter how often he heard the clunking sound he would never get used to it. You could tell everything by the sound of those doors. 

'Collect your soiled clothing,' the associate wardens voice rang out. 'Step out and toe the line.' 

'Collect your soiled clothing,' the new guard continued to repeat.

Mickey collected his dirty clothes as instructed.

'Step out and toe the line,' the new guard was sounding more and more confident with each repetition.

He stepped out of his cell and fell into line with his fellow prisoners. And then the march began. As he followed his prisoners down the cell block he passed West's cell, as the other man was on kitchen duties he washed on opposite days. Mickey gave him a small nod as he walked past the other man, hopefully West would use the additional time to help finish making the oars for their raft.

'Move it Milkovich,' one of the guards growled at him.

'I'm going, I'm going,' Mickey scowled earning himself a glare.

 

_When you go to the bathroom you will display all items of soiled clothing before the inspecting Officer. You will then deposit this clothing in the proper hampers and take your bath. You are expected to bathe in a reasonable length of time. Go to the issue window and draw your clean clothing. Check each item. Minor repairs and replacements will be made immediately, if possible. If this cannot be done, the Clothing Room Officer will take your name and number and place you “on call." Special issues of' clothing and equipment will not be handled during bath line. Give your name and number to the Clothing Room Officer and he will place you "on call" for these special items. Do not carry blankets, coats, shoes or other articles to the bath room. Special arrangements are made for collection and laundering of woolen articles and for the repair of shoes._

 

He continued to move forward, following the other prisoners towards the showers. They marched row by row down the stairs into the shower block, as they entered they showed their dirty laundry to the guard before throwing it in the provided hamper. He then collected his new clothes and deposited them on a nearby bench.

When the hot water finally hit Mickey's shoulders and began to roll down his back he could feel the tension he had been building up melt away. His biweekly shower was one of his favorite times, especially on a Saturday when he had the rest of the day to himself. As he begun to soap himself up he could feel someones eyes on him. He turned and noticed that the newest guards eyes were darting around the room, taking in the sight of all the soaped up naked men. The red head looked far more nervous than the typical newbie. Mickey caught his eye and winked, the guard flushed red and turned away. Mickey's mouth curled into a smile. The brunette began to soap himself more slowly, noticing the red heads face seemed to slowly match his hair. Especially as Mickey's hands soaped lower and lower and ran across his backside.

And then he was slipping and falling, he managed to catch himself on the rail in front of him. Donny was grinning at him, not even attempting to look innocent. Mickey raised an eyebrow daring the larger man to come closer. Donny took the bait and lunged at the smaller man who gracefully stepped to the side and laughed as the larger man crashed to the floor.

'Milkovich,' Morrison shouted, the red head followed behind him. 'What did you do?'

'Nothin,' Mickey scowled throwing his hands in the air. 'Donny wanted a fight, I just stepped aside and stayed out of it as you always tell us.'

 

_18\. THREATENING, RIDICULING, OR ATTEMPTING TO INTIMIDATE OR ASSAULT OFFICERS, OFFICIALS, EMPLOYEES OR VISITORS is a very serious offense._

 

'And why don't I believe you Milkovich?' Morrison purred, stalking closer towards the brunette. 'You always seem to be getting yourself into trouble.' 

'No sir,' Mickey feigned innocence. 'Trouble just seems to find me.'

'Really?' Morrison stepped in front of the shorter man. 'I don't quite believe that.'

'Well you see sir,' Mickey bit the corner of his mouth and rubbed his chin before staring the guard straight in the eyes. 'Trouble only seems to happen when you're around.'

'Well,' Morrison scowled at him. 'You're certainly asking for it today aren't you?'

The larger man grabbed Mickey by his hair and dragged him away from the shower, he proceeded to walk the shorter man over to the wall and slam his face into it again, and again, and again. Mickey chuckled silently to himself as blood streamed down his nose, though he was in excruciating pain and Morrison would surely break his nose, it would only serve to further Mickey's plans.

After a few days in hospital he would be confined to his cell until deemed fit to return to work He could spend the time building oars and working on the raft. As the guard continued to beat him Mickey's mind turned to thoughts of escape, soon he would be out of Alcatraz, soon he would be free.

 

\--

 

Ian's face turned pale as Morrison grabbed the prisoner, Milkovich, by the back of the head. He watched in horror as his mentor dragged the man towards the shower block wall and then proceeded to repeatedly slam his face into it. The other prisoners began to jeer as blood poured from their cellmates nose.

'Morrison,' Ian wanted to stop the violence. 'He didn't do anything, he just stepped out of the way of the other prisoner.'

Morrison dropped Milkovich, letting the shorter man fall to the ground, his blood pooling around him. He stalked over to Ian, his eyes dark with power.

'I know that Gallagher,' the man snarled. 'However he talked back to me, he got exactly what he deserved.' 

'You don't think it's a little extreme?' Ian shifted from side to side.

'No I don't,' Morrison shook his head and sighed loudly. 'Since you care so much pick him up and carry him to the Hospital ward.'

Ian glared at the other guard, Morrison has seemed decent at first but now the red head found himself reassessing his initial opinion. He nodded at Morrison once before swiftly walking over to the bloodied prisoner. He checked to see he was awake before he helped him up and swung the shorter man's arm around his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around the prisoner's waist before he finally began to drag him towards the stairs. He looked over his shoulder and threw one last glare at Morrison. As he and the prisoner began the long crime up the stairs, all he could hear was the other guards laughter echoing behind him.

 

-

 

_36\. MEDICAL ATTENTION: Medical attention is available to all inmates. A member of the Hospital Staff conducts a daily Sick-Call line in the Cell house at about 12:30 P.M. To attend sick-call, proceed directly to the West End of the Cell house and stand quietly in line until called. After consultation, return directly to your cell. Do not loiter or visit on the gallery. If you become ill at any time, notify an Officer and you will receive medical attention. Do not make unnecessary disturbances. When you receive a medical lay-in, you will remain in your cell except for religious services, meals and movies. If you are notified by the Medical Officer at sick-call to remain in your cell for Hospital call-out, you must do so. You are allowed to keep in your cell only those medications issued to you by the Hospital Staff. Empty and unused bottles are to be returned to the West End desk. No medications will be kept in your cell longer than 30 days._

 

'I'm sorry about Morrison,' Ian said quietly as he helped the prisoner up the stairs. 'He went too far.'

'You are naive,' Milkovich chuckled. 'He's had it out for me since I first landed on this rock.'

'I'm sorry,' Ian apologized again, unsure what to say.

'Don't be,' Milkovich winced as he shrugged. 'These things happen all the time, we just deal with it.'

 'It shouldn't be that way though,' Ian pressed.

'Look Kid,' Milkovich began, Ian smarted at the comment, the brunette didn't look much older than him. 'It's real nice you think things should be different, but they wont be, they will never be. So just let it go, if you don't you'll be out of here sooner rather than later.'

'Sure,' Ian sighed as they reached the top of the stairs. 'Any other sage advice?'

'Don't be a hero,' Mickey coughed. 'Just keep to the guards and-'

'Prisoner 2112, Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich,' A doctor greeted them. 'Not feeling well today?' 

'Yep,' the prisoner grinned. 'I seem to have a blood nose.'

'I can see that,' the doctor raised an eyebrow. 'Had another run in with a wall?'

'Something like that,' Milkovich rolled his eyes.

'Help him to the bed...'

'Ian Gallagher,' Ian offered.

'Help him to the bed Gallagher,' The doctor pointed. 'Then you can head on home, clearly it's been an interesting first day for you.' 

'But-'

'Drop it Red,' Milkovich scowled. 'Just help me and go.'

Ian frowned but proceeded to assist the brunette to the bed. He watched as Mickey pulled himself up and onto the hardframe.

'Here you go Gallagher,' the Doctor handed him a piece of paper. 'You are dismissed.'

 -

Ian was angry. He practically ran towards the guard accommodations before stopping and letting out a scream. He knew that the guards pushed the prisoner's around, that was common practice, but to physically beat a prisoner who hadn't done anything? Ian just couldn't understand it, he felt sick to his stomach.

'Gallagher,' A familiar voice shouted from behind him. 'Ian!'

The red head whipped around and noticed a guard chasing him down the hill. All too soon Morrison's familiar crop of blond hair and blue eyes stood in front of him. Ian scowled at the shorter man.

'Gallagher,' the shorter man puffed. 'Come back to mine for a drink.'

 'Thanks,' Ian scowled. 'But no thanks.'

'That wasn't a request,' Morrison smirked. 'We need to discuss your performance today.'

Ian nodded, he followed Morrison into the single man's quarters. Morrison had a small room to himself, it had a twin bed against one wall, a full bookshelf against the opposite and a television in the corner. The blond man shut the door behind them and locked it.

'You're not alone on the Island are you Gallagher?' the shorter man crooned. 'You have family staying with you?'

'Y-yes,' Ian answered, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. 'Some of my family are living here with me.' 

'And from what I gather you all really can't afford to live elsewhere,' Morrison continued, he began to circle the red head. 'Where would you go if you lost the job?' 

'If I lost the job sir?' the red head's voice shook, he didn't like where the conversation was heading. 

'Well your behavior today was not befitting of a guard of Alcatraz,' the shorter man chuckled, a shiver ran up Ian's spine. 'I may have to report this to the Warden.'

'Please don't,' Ian whispered. 'What can I do to make you forget about this?'

'Well...' Blue eyes locked with green. 'On your knees soldier.'

Ian dropped to his knees as instructed, he wasn't happy where this was going, but there wasn't much he could do. He watched as the blond man unbuckled his belt, tugged his trousers down, and pulled his penis out.

'Now suck.'

 

-

 

Mickey was bored, the doc thought he had a concussion, he needed to be kept overnight for observation. The downside of being kept for observation meant that he couldn't really do anything except lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. 

'Milkovich,' a familiar voice hissed. 

Mickey whipped his head around, he saw familiar green eyes accompanied by a pair of red eyebrows. The brunette raised an eyebrow as the red head sat down next to him, he had a look of concern on his face.

'Gallagher,' Mickey growled. 'What are you doing here?

'Wait,' the red heads forehead furrowed. 'How do you know my name?'

'I listen,' Mickey rolled his eyes. 'I aint deaf or stupid. You said your name earlier. Why are you here?'

'Sorry,' pink flushed against the red heads cheeks. 'Just wanted to see that you were okay.'

'Well I am okay as I can be considering,' the brunette shrugged.

 'I'm glad,' Gallagher beamed. 'Did you need anything?'

'Can you get me anything?' Mickey arched a single brow.

'Not really...' Gallagher trailed off.

'Then why'd you offer?' the brunette huffed, sinking further into his hospital bed.

'Don't know,' the red head shrugged before removing his hat. 'Just felt like the right thing to do.' Silence washed over the two. 'So... How long are you in here for?’ 

'Being held overnight,' Mickey answered. 'Have a concussion.'

'Sorry-'

'Don't be,' the brunette shook his head.'Nothing that could have been done.' 

'I could have tried to stop him,' Gallagher scowled.

'Ain't we had this conversation before?' the brunette clenched his fists. 'There is nothing you can do when a guard attacks a prisoner.'

'But-'

'Just stop,' Mickey berrated. 'It's been the way here for years and there ain’t much one man can do.' He watched as the taller man deflated. 'Look you took this job for a reason right?' The red head nodded. 'Have a family to support?'

'Yes,' Gallagher confirmed. 

'So do what you need to look after them,' Mickey forced a smile. 'If that means letting inmate scum be beaten just do it. Capiche?'

'What?' Gallagher chuckled. 'You in the mob?' 

'In another life maybe,' the brunette rolled his eyes. 'Now get out of here.' 

Mickey watched as Gallagher placed his cap back on, covering up his bright red hair. He rolled his eyes as the taller man gave him a little wave before leaving the room. Mickey couldn't help but look at his ass, his tongue slowly traced his lips. Too bad he wouldn't be sleeping this evening, in his head the encounter with the red head may have gone a little differently than it had. Mickey sunk further into his pillows, maybe he could fix himself up after the doctor checked up on him.

 

 

 **April 20** **th** **1962, One month later**

 

_51\. VISITS: You are allowed to receive one visit each month from members of your immediate family or other persons approved by the Warden. Visiting hours are approximately 1:30 PM to 3:10 PM weekdays._

 

'Milkovich,' A guard shouted. 'You have a visitor.'

 The brunette opened his eyes, both his eyebrows were raised high on his forehead. He never had visitors, none of his family could be bothered to come visit him since he was transferred to the rock. Mickey slowly forced himself to sit up on the edge of his bed, before he turned to face the door of his cell.

'Milkovich,' the guard growled. 'Do you want to see your visitor or not?'

'Yes Sir,' Mickey scrambled.

 'Stand up and face your door,' the guard huffed, Mickey did as instructed. 'Stand with your hands clasped behind your back and continue to face the cell door. Once the door is open please fall into place and wait my signal before moving. You will follow me to the visitor booth and wait further instructions. Any failure to comply will result in punishment and possible loss of privileges, any questions?'

'No sir,' Mickey shook his head.

'Good,' The guard nodded. 'Open Milkovich's cell.'

Mickey did as instructed, he stood up and faced his door and waited for it to open. As soon as it slid open he stepped forward and toed the invisible line he would normally. The guard walked towards him and beckoned him to follow. He was led to the visitor booths and the was stopped.

 

_In all personal visits you will confine your talk to personal matters and refrain from discussing other inmates, Institutional matters, etc. Visits with your Attorney of record may be arranged through the office of the Associate Warden._

 

'Have you read the rules and regulations regarding visitors?' The guard questioned the brunette. 

'Yes sir,' Mickey said, he nodded his head to emphasize his point. 

'You will confine your talk to personal matter's only,' the guard continued. 'All conversations are monitored. You will be cut off and escorted back to your cell if the conversation becomes anything we deem unsuitable. Do you understand?' 

'Yes sir,' Mickey nodded again. 'Can I see my visitor now?'

The guard nodded and directed Mickey to one of the booths. As he sat down a familiar flash of blue caught his vision. The person sitting opposite him had a soft face with piercing blue eyes, a wicked smile was gracing her face.

'Mandy,' Mickey breathed as he took her in. 'What are you doing here?'

'My fiance and I are in town-' 

'Fiance?' the brunette raised an eyebrow. 'Who'd want to marry you?'

'- visting his family,' She continued, flipping off his question. 'And I thought I'd take the opportunity to visit you.'

'That's a big word,' Mickey grinned.

'Well I am marrying a Professor,' Mandy smirked. 'I'm moving up in the world.' She paused, her smooth face was twisted into a grimace. 'How are you coping here? It's different to what I expected.'

 'It's okay,' the brunette shrugged. 'Nothing I can't handle. It's nice to see you Mands.' 

'You too,' Her mouth twisted into a smirk. 'Though I would have made the effort earlier if I knew how yummy the guards are. There's this red head who escorted me in, he was just delicious-'

'Mandy,' Mickey choked. 'You know they're listening to this right?'

 'I'm not the one in federal prison,' Mandy shrugged. 'And your ex-wife and I have spoken about your proclivities before.' 

'How is Lana?' Mickey asked, eager to change the conversation.

'She's doing well,' his sister smiled. 'Has gotten herself married to a real estate tycoon. She's rolling in it now, he's treating her well.'

'And Yevgeny?' he continued to dig for more information. 'He doin' okay?'

'He's fine,' Mandy's voice went quiet. 'Doesn't even know who you are though.' 

'It's better that way,' Mickey nodded, his mouth thin. 'Me and Lana were together to make our fathers happy, it's better he doesn't get to know me.' 

He looked at his sister, he felt small. His teeth seemed to work their way over his bottom lip, and his brow furrowed.

'If I ever get out of here would you be okay without me?' One set of blue eyes met another.

'What are you saying Mick?' Mandy's voice shook.

 'Nothing,' Mickey shrugged. 'Just thought if you have someone looking after you now you wouldn't want your ex-con big brother hanging around right?' 

'I'd always want you hanging around,' his sisters voice was soft and warm. 'How else am I going to keep my husband in line if I don't have my brother looking over my shoulder.'

'Thanks Mands,' he smiled at his sister.

'Anytime,' she smiled back.

'Milkovich,' a familiar voice snarled. 'Times up.'

'Mickey?' Mandy's voice trembled as he was yanked back by the scruff of his collar. 

'Hey,' Mickey shouted. 'That wasn't even ten minutes.' 

For his comment Mickey found his back pressed against the wall, Morrison snarling above him.

'Tough Milkovich,' Morrison smirked. 'If you don't cooperate and get back in your cell I will report you to the warden for insubordination. You may end up in the hole for several days.'

'Fine,' the brunette sighed. 'Can I at least say goodbye to my sister.'

'I think you lost that chance the minute you fought back,' the blond man's laugh was harsh. 'Now lets go.'

As he was dragged away Mickey could see the look of pain on his younger sister's face, he waved at her before Morrison forced him to turn away. The door to his cell was already open so all Morrison had to do was throw him inside and yell at the doorman to lock him in. As his cell door closed Mickey seethed, he'd need to talk to the Anglin brother's soon, he didn't think he could last much longer.

 

–

 

Ian had just finished his shift, he was standing at the front doors of the prison admiring the San Francisco skyline. He lit a cigarette and in hailed slowly, he loved the burn. He heard a sob and turned towards the sound. The young lady he had escorted into the visitor center was leaning against the wall, her chest was heaving and tears were prickling at the corner of her eyes.

'Miss?' Ian asked. 'Is everything okay?'

'No,' the young lady growled. 'Everything is not okay. One of your lot dragged my brother away not even ten minutes into my visit for no reason.'

'I'm sorry,' Ian frowned. 'But he would have been advised if you were discussing anything inappropriate-'

'We weren't,' she snapped. 'We were talking about our family. It was the first time I've been able to see him since he was transferred out to this rock, I may not have another chance.'

'I'm sorry then,' Ian frowned, that shouldn't have happened, maybe the young lady had made a mistake. 'May I ask who you were visiting?'

'I thought you knew,' the brunette looked up at him. 'You did walk me in.'

'Only the officer who delegates the windows know which prisoners are being visited,' Ian shrugged. 'It stops guards from harassing the prisoner's family members.'

'Guards harass family members?' the young woman's voice trembled. 'If it's anything like what happened to Mickey-‘ 

'Milkovich?' Ian grabbed the woman by the shoulder. 'Who was the guard? Was it Morrison?'

'I didn't catch his name,' The woman wrenched herself out of the red head's grip. 'He was blond and was pretty rough with my brother.' 

'Milkovich?' Ian asked again. 'Morrison has it out for him, no idea why.'

'Yeah,' the brunette confirmed. 'Mickey looked like he was used to it though.' 

'He is,' Ian said quietly. 'I try and distract Morrison when we're working together but-'

'Thank you,' the woman smiled, she was overwhelming. 'At least someone is looking out for him.' 

'From what I've seen your brother can handle himself,' the red head smiled. 'I'm Ian by the way.'

'Gallagher?' The young lady smirked.

'Y-yes,' Ian's voice trembled. 'How did you know.'

'Amanda Maguire,' the grin stretched wider across the brunette's face. 'Mandy for short.'

'You're engaged to my brother?' Ian chuckled. 'Small world. So you're Mickey's sister?' The brunette nodded. 'But-' 

'When my father was sentenced to life I was placed into my aunts care,' Mandy shrugged. 'My aunt formally adopted me and I took her surname, but I am a Milkovich through and through.'

'My father will be disappointed if he ever finds out you're not from a good Irish family,' Ian shook his head. 'On that note, are you ready to meet us?' 

'Not really,' Mandy shook her head. 'But I figure if I can brave Alcatraz I can brave anything.'

'Come on,' the red head laughed. 'Let's get going.'

 

 

 **April 27** **th** **1962, One week later**

 

_34\. HAIRCUTS AND SHAVES: Haircuts will be of regulation type. You are not permitted to wear your hair in an unusual manner or have any special haircut except as authorized by the Associate Warden._

 

'Milkovich,' a familiar voice called out. 'You're due a haircut.'

 

_You will be placed on call for a haircut approximately every three weeks. You will be told when you are scheduled for it._

 

‘Officer Gallagher,' Mickey smirked at the taller red head. 'Let me out of here and I would be happy to oblige.'

'Stand with your hands clasped behind your back and continue to face the cell door,' the red head barked. 'Once the door is open please fall into place and wait my signal before moving. You will follow me to the barber cell and wait further instructions. Any failure to comply will result in punishment and possible loss of privileges, any questions?' 

'Nope,' the brunette stifled a laugh.

'Open Milkovich's cell,' Gallagher shouted, he stood tall his shoulders held back.

He waited for his door to open before stepping out and nodding at the taller man. The red head beamed at the brunette before turning on his heal and escorting him to the cell where his hair would be cut.

'I met your sister the other day,' Ian laughed. 'She's a bit of a wildcat.'

'That she is,' the brunette chuckled back. 'How did you meet her?'

'After she visited you I ran into her,' Ian continued. 'Turns out she's marrying my brother. Let's just say he wasn't impressed to find out that one of her own was a “no good crook”.' 

'So we're going to be in-laws?' Mickey raised an eyebrow. 'Seriously. 

'Seriously,' the red head parroted. 'So I think as soon to be in laws it is imperative for us to get to know one another.'

'That's a big word Gallagher,' Mickey chuckled to himself.

'It means-'

'I know what it means,' Mickey rolled his eyes. 'Just cause I'm in prison doesn't mean I'm an idiot.'

'S-sorry,' the guard blinked, flustered. 'I didn't mean to-'

'Don't sweat it Red,' the brunette flashed the taller man a wicked grin. 'I don't like people making assumptions, especially when they aren't true.'

 'I understand,' the red head nodded. 'Sorry.'

'Just don't make that mistake again,' Mickey's grin grew as they reached the barber cell. 'Styles!' The graying brunette turned to look at who had shouted his name. He was dressed in his usual prison slacks but had an apron over the top. 'Wasn't aware you had been promoted.'

'About time too eh Milkovich?' The older man's Irish lilt came through as he spoke. 'What'll it be today?'

 'Short,' Mickey shrugged. 'Not much I’m planning on doing at the moment.'

'No fancy dinners to go to?' Styles chuckled at his own joke.

'Nah,' the brunette humored. 'Not friends with the right folks.'

'Face the cell door Milkovich,' Gallagher's stern voice broke through their conversation. 'If you want them to open the cell you'll have to behave.'

'I'll always behave for you _sir_ ,' Mickey smirked before standing to face the cell door, hands behind his back.

'Open A Block Barber Cell,' Gallagher shout was followed by the all too familiar clunk of the cell door opening. 'Prisoner entering.'

Once the door was open Mickey sauntered into the familiar cell, Gallagher followed closely behind him. The cell door soon began to close and the young brunette flopped into what was the prisons makeshift barber chair. He threw a smirk at Gallagher before looking over his shoulder at Styles. 

'You know what I like Styles,' Mickey chuckled, the older man stepped forward and tucked an old rag around his shoulders. 'Short and clean.'

'I'll see what I can do Milkovich,' Styles shook his head and begun to trim Mickey's non-existent hair. 

'You're having far to much fun,' the red head guard observed.

'Can't have that can we?' the brunette raised a brow. 

'Nope,' Gallagher moved from his spot and lent against the wall of the cell. 'Not much of a view here is there?'

'Never is,' Mickey rolled his eyes. 'Can't have us convicts getting any bright ideas-'

'Escaping,' Styles chucked in.

'Exactly,' the brunette continued. 'So why give us a glimpse of what we can't have?'

'Don't you see San Fran everyday?' the red head cocked his head.

'You see it in the distance,' Styles sighed as he finished the younger man's hair. 'It's so close you can hear the noises yet so far you don't quite believe it's there at all.'

'It's this prisons greatest torture,' Mickey muttered under his breath, he pulled the rag out from under his collar and stood up. 'Seeing what you're missing every damn day of your life.'

'San Francisco?' Gallagher questioned. 

'Freedom.'

Mickey let the word wash over the taller man as he handed the rag back to Styles. The older man nodded at him before running a hand through Mickey's dark hair.

'There you go son,' the old man smiled. 'Short and clean as requested.'

'Thanks Styles,' Mickey nodded. 

'Anytime,' Styles chuckled.

'Open A Block Barber Cell,' The three men heard a shout, followed by the familiar sound of the open door. 'Prisoner entering.'

Mickey felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as a familiar blond figure entered the cell. He could feel Gallagher stiffen beside him. Mickey stood straight and looked the taller blond guard in the eye. 

'Milkovich,' Morrison's familiar voice broke their gaze. 'What are you doing over here?'

'Was just getting my hair cut,' Mickey rolled his eyes. 'Sir.'

'And why aren't you being escorted back to the yard?' Morrison scrutinized.

'I was just walking him back now Morrison,' Gallagher forced a smile.

 'Well clearly you we're being remiss in your duties,' Morrison scowled. 'I think you should take a break and come back when you're ready to complete your duties properly.'

'I am fine Morrison,' the red head snapped. 'Come on Milkovich, let's get you to the recreation yard.'

'Styles,' Mickey yelled back at the graying man. 'If you need a hand cleaning up later you know who to ask for.'

'Will do Milkovich,' The older man replied before watching Mickey and the incoming prisoner trade places. 

'Gallagher,' Morrison scowled. 'Recreation yard now!'

'Yes sir,' the red head nodded before grabbing Mickey by the arm. The brunette held his face and followed Gallagher as he stormed away. 'He frustrates me so much.'

'Don't let him get to you,' the brunette sighed. 'It's not worth it. _He's_ not worth it.'

'I don't understand how you remain calm around him,' Gallagher grunted as they reached the entrance to the recreation yard.

'We go way back Morrison and I,' Mickey began, holding his arms up and allowing himself to be patted down. 'I was imprisoned at Leavenworth back when he first started out as a guard. He wasn't very good back then and the man training him was not the nicest of folks.'

'You may go through,' another guard motioned to Mickey and his red headed guard.

 

_You may be allowed to go to the Recreation Yard after your haircut if you are in good standing. You will shave in your cell. Razor blades are exchanged each Saturday by the Evening Watch Officer. Two new blades are issued in exchange for your two old blades. Failure to account for both of your blades at any time will result in a disciplinary report. Loss of a razor blade must be reported to the Cellhouse Officer immediately. Do not wait until issue night to report the loss. You must be clean shaven at all times. No special beards, mustaches or goatees are allowed._

 

'So when I left Leavenworth I may have passed by this guard,' a smile began to stretch across the brunette's face. 'And just after my sister came to collect me I may have told several guards, especially this one, to go fuck themselves. They weren't very pleased with me.'

'I can see that,' the red head chuckled. 'Still not a good enough reason to keep beating you.'

'But the face I continue to antagonize him with might be,' a single eyebrow lifted to match the wicked grin on Mickey's face.

'Into the yard with you,' Gallagher shook his head. 'Enjoy your recreation time, don't spend it all plotting our downfall.'

Mickey turned to watch the red head walk away before he finally turned and made his way down the stairs into the concrete yard. He looked for the Anglin brothers who were playing chess in the corner. It was time to check up on them.

 

–

 

'Milkovich,' a familiar Irish lilt hissed at him. 'There's a gift for you when you next collect your bedding.'

 'Thanks,' Mickey nodded at Styles.

 'I'm expecting your weeks worth of cigarettes,' Styles crossed his arms over his chest. 'I don't do nothing for free.'

 'I'll get you your cigarette's,' the brunette grinned, the Anglin brothers weren't huge smokers so were always happy to provide their supplies to assist with the cause. 'When do you want them by?'

 'Sunday week,' Styles nodded. 'Otherwise you wont be getting no more favors from me.'

'Done,' Mickey stated before turning to continue his way back to his cell.

Over the past few weeks he and the Anglin brothers had been carefully crafting paper mache heads. They'd stick the hair that Styles had collected for them on the heads, hopefully making them appear more realistic. Once the heads were completed they would use them to hopefully fool the guards into thinking they were sound asleep in bed whilst in reality they were escaping from the island.

 As Mickey stood opposite his cell and waited for the familiar sound of the doors opening he grinned to himself. Everything seemed to be finally falling into place, he would be off the rock and on his way to starting a new life.

 

–

 

'Final Check!' Gallagher's familiar voice echoed down the cell block.

Mickey propped himself up against the wall and waited for the guard to walk past. As Gallagher reached his cell he nodded at Mickey, a smile stretched across his face. Before the brunette could react the red head disappeared out of view. Mickey could feel his shoulders tense, he listened as the echo of the taller man's footsteps faded and then grew louder. When Gallagher walked past his cell again he smiled back.

'Lights out!'

As his cell went black Mickey flopped back on his bed, thoughts of res hair, broad shoulders and green eyes floated through his head. There was no way he was getting any work done tonight. He forced himself up off his bed and walked over to his toilet. He grabbed himself some paper before settling himself back on his firm mattress. 

Once again images of red hair and soft smiles began to invade his thoughts, he could feel himself grow hard. Mickey gripped himself, he roughly stroked himself to flashes of red and green. To a muscular figure in a guard uniform. As silently as possible he drove himself to silent completion, spilling over the toilet tissue he had previously grabbed himself. He wiped himself off and flushed the tissue down the toilet. When he hopped back into his bed he noticed the sheets were sticky.

Thank god tomorrow was laundry day.

 

\

 

**May 11** **th** **1962, Two weeks later**

 

Ian was thrilled when he received his assignment for the day. The normal librarian had been knocked out in an altercation earlier during the day, and he had been asked to collect and escort the man's replacement for the afternoon. Ian walked the familiar cell blocks and stood in front of his favorite prisoner.

'Milkovich,' He shouted, hiding a grin when the brunette's head snapped up and his blue eyes met Ian's green ones. 'Step forward to your cell door.'

'What can I help you with _sir_ ,' the brunette smirked at him.

'Deputy Warden wants you filling orders in the Library,' Ian kept his voice stern. 'You'll be relieved from your normal duties. Any questions?'

'No sir,' the shorter man's smirk never faltered.

'Stand with your hands clasped behind your back and continue to face the cell door,' Ian droned off the usual spiel. 'Once the door is open please fall into place and wait my signal before moving. You will follow me to the Library and wait further instructions. Any failure to comply will result in punishment and possible loss of privileges, any questions?'

'Well...' Milkovich began, thumbing his bottom lip. 'Nope, none that I can think of.'

'Open Milkovich's cell,' Ian rolled his eyes at the shorter man.

Both men watched the other as the cell door separating the two rolled open. The brunette stepped forward, his chest almost touching the taller mans. He raised an eyebrow at Ian sending shivers down the red heads back, clearly the prisoner was enjoying himself too much.

'F-Follow me,' Ian struggled to hide the slight tremble in his voice. He stepped away from the brunette and turned. The two men walked to the Library in silence.

 

_44\. LIBRARY RULES: Each cell contains a catalog which lists all of the books contained in the library. If you do not have a library catalog or library card, address a request to the Librarian to obtain one. Fill out this card with your name, register number and cell location._

 

When they arrived the two men waited as the library was unlocked by another guard before finally being allowed to step inside before. There was a small desk tucked in a corner which had a pile of library cards stacked on top of it waiting to be filled.

 'Have you worked in the Library before?' the other guard asked Ian, the red head shook his head. 'All you need to do is check the stack of orders to see if anything suspicious or inappropriate is asked for. If you come across something suspect, pocket it and bring it to the attention of the Warden. Otherwise pass the card to him to process.' 

'Thanks,' Ian flashed a smile at the other guard. 'We'll start right away.'

'And keep an eye on him,' the guard growled before turning to leave.

 

_(1) To request delivery of library books to your cell, refer to the catalog for the "Call" or identification number of the book you want and place that number on your library card. Place the card on the table at the entrance to the dining room on your way to breakfast. Return books in the same manner._

 

Ian walked over to the desk with the library cards on it, hidden behind the stack were two boxes. One reading unfilled orders and the other reading new orders. The red head then turned to the brunette who was already standing at a trolley and thumbing through a book.

 'You're here to work not read,' Ian chuckled to himself.

 'I am working,' the brunette rolled his eyes. 'I'm seeing who would read such rubbish.'

Ian looked at the book that Milkovich was holding, it appeared to be a copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin. Definitely not a book Ian could see the prisoner enjoying. Ian walked over and plucked the book from his hands.

 'As much as I would like to hear your opinion on classic literature you really should get to work,' Ian chuckled as the brunette cocked an eyebrow, shook his head and started re-shelving books. The red head rolled his eyes before heading back over to the desk filled with requests.

 

_(2) The library books you request are checked out to you and must be returned within the time limit shown on the DATE-DUE slip inside the back cover of the book. Failure to return the book to the library prior to or on the date due, may result in forfeiture of library privileges._

 

The two men worked together in comfortable silence, Ian occasionally handing Milkovich a pile of slips and the other man nodding at him. As the silence stretched Ian began to get antsy, he was looking forward to spending his time with the shorter man and yet they weren't really doing anything.

'There's a nice view of the bay from the shoreline isn't there?' Ian hummed, finally breaking the silence. 'I'm planning on heading out to the city on my next day off, see the sea lions-'

'Have I given you any indication that I find that interesting?' the brunette snapped, slamming a book shut to emphasize his point. 'It's not like I can swan over to the city and spend a day feeding the seals-'

'Sea lions,' Ian interjected.

'I know what I meant,' Milkovich raised an eyebrow.

'Sorry,' the red head threw up his hands.

Ian backed off immediately and went back to sorting through the cards. It was tedious, most prisoners were aware of what was deemed appropriate, and it wasn't as though the prison itself held any books that were unsuitable for inmates consumption. Ian quickly finished his work and was stuck watching the shorter man sort through the slips and the books.

'What's so interesting about sea lions anyway?' the brunette's quiet question broke the silence.

'Nothing really,' Ian beamed. 'They just laze around, barking for food. They stink something shocking-'

 'Just like being at work hey?' Milkovich chuckled.

'Yeah,' Ian smiled. 'Right before shower duty.'

 

_(3) You are permitted to have not more than three CIRCULATING library books in your cell at one time. Keep your books and magazines neatly arranged on the shelf in the cell when they are not being read._

 

'Do you reckon I'd be able to take some with me back to my cell?' Milkovich asked, gesturing to a pile of three books. 'Need to brush up on my classic literature.'

'Sure,' Ian eyed off the pile. 'Don't see why you wouldn't be.' Mickey had selected Bram Stockers Dracula, Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wild, and Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. 'I wouldn't have taken you for an Austin fan, especially after your comments about others reading such “trash.”' 

'I was joking,' the brunette scowled. 'I have read Persuasion and Sense and Sensibility.' Ian couldn't stop his eyebrows from shooting up to his forehead. 'My sister was a fan, and I got bored.'

'Fill out a slip,' Ian chuckled, passing a blank slip to the shorter brunette. 'Just to keep it formal.'

'Yes _sir_.'

 

_(4) In addition to the circulating books, you are permitted to have a Bible, Dictionary and study books up to a maximum of twelve (12) in your cell at one time. This includes all books, personal, library and study course books. Books beyond the maximum of 12 will be confiscated._

_A maximum of 24 pamphlets may be kept in your cell at one time. Pamphlets beyond this maximum will be confiscated._

 

As they continued to work, Ian began to help the brunette fill the slips and sort through the books. Mickey told Ian of his childhood, a misspent youth filled with looting, making bootleg booze and listening to his dad go on about the good old days of Prohibition. The Milkovich's apparently lived like kings during Mickey's childhood, he of course remembered very little of it.

They began to talk about Ian's crazy family, how his sister was a confirmed spinster, ran the household, and had put her family first. About his younger brothers and sister, how Carl was following in his older brothers footsteps and was becoming a cop. That Debbie married young and was a mother of two, both of whom Ian had met exactly once. And how Liam was clearly not their father's son, his skin darker than the rest, but still just as much a part of the family.

'I don't even think I'm Franks kid,' Ian laughed. 'I look a little too much like my uncle Clayton, that's even my middle name.'

'What?' the prisoner chuckled.

 'Ian Clayton Gallagher,' Ian smiled, shelving another book. 'What's your middle name again Mikhailo?'

 'Don't,' the brunette shrunk away.

 'Don't what?' Ian took a step towards the other man.

'Call me Mikhailo,' He shook his head. 'It aint right. Too many bad memories...'

'I'm sorry,' the red heads face flushed, almost matching his hair. 'I thought-'

 'Mickey,' the prisoner corrected. 'I prefer Mickey.'

 

_(5) Handle library books carefully. Many of the worn out books, especially fiction books, can not be replaced since they are out of print. You are cautioned not to loan or exchange books with other inmates or to toss books to other tiers or the flag. Defacement, mutilation or destruction of books will be cause for disciplinary action even to the extent of forfeiture of good time._

 

'Mickey,' Ian repeated under his breath. 'You can always call me Ian.'

'No I can't,' the brunette rolled his eyes, tossing a book on the shelf. 'Just as you can't call me Mickey.'

'Why?' Ian asked. 'Not in public, just in private-'

'And if someone overhears?' Mickey groaned. 'If you make a mistake? You'd be fired and I'd be thrown in the hole.'

 'But-'

 'Look,' Mick-, Milkovich Ian silently corrected, scowled. 'We aint friends. As much as I'd like to be it aint happening. I would like to complete my sentence in peace okay?'

'Fine,' the red head said dejectedly. 'Whatever you want.'

The two went back to working in silence.

 

–

 

_MAGAZINES: The library subscribes to a few magazines such as the National Geographic and these magazines can be obtained from the library, not by using the library card, but by submitting a request form. Library magazines must be handled with care and promptly returned to the library for redistribution. Do not remove articles or pictures._

 

Mickey thumbed through a National Geographic, stopping on a page of the San Francisco Bay. He glanced at the taller man who had gone back to standing in the corner, not quite watching what the prisoner was doing. Mickey sucked in a deep breath before walking over to the red head and opening the page for him.

'Gallagher,' Mickey said, thrusting the magazine at the red head. 'Is this what sea lions look like?'

Mickey watched as the red head's confused look turned into something beautiful. The brunette watched as a smile explode across the taller man's face, it took his breath away. 

'Yeah,' green eyes locked with blue. 'That's what sea lions look like.'

 

_You are permitted to purchase (by subscription) not more than eight (8) magazines from the approved list. Requests for the purchase of magazines are submitted to the Mail Censor using the regular request slip. When magazines arrive at the institution, the mail Censor marks your number on them and forwards them to the Library for distribution. Magazines are withdrawn from circulation 30 days after delivery._

 

Eventually Mickey was escorted back to his cell. He resisted smirking at Morrison as he carried several books and magazine's in uncuffed hands. Eventually Ian returned him to his cell, the familiar clunking causing them both to jump. Once Mickey had deposited his horde on his bed he turned to face the cell door as it closed. Gallagher looked at him one last time, a tight smile gracing the older mans lips before he finally nodded and walked away.

He left the brunette with a flutter In his stomach and a tingle in his heart. Mickey knew he would need to up his game and escape soon, otherwise the attraction that was developing between himself and the red head would be the end of him. Secretly the brunette was thrilled, he had always enjoyed a little bit of danger.

 

–

 

'What are you doing Gallagher?' Morrison's familiar drawl seemed to come from nowhere. 

'What do you want Morrison?' Ian sighed as he slowed his brisk pace.

'Fraternization with prisoners is a dismissible offense,' the blond man cooed. 'You will be dismissed, may even be imprisoned.'

'I haven't done anything wrong,' the red head growled, turning to face the blond man.

'Maybe not,' Morrison purred, curling long fingers around Ian's shoulder. 'But you do seem overtly friendly with Milkovich-'

 'So?' the tall red head shrugged out of the blond man's touch.

'And there's the family connection-' the other mans voice turned harsh.

'What?' Ian stepped forward. 'What are you talking about?'

'Hasn't your brother married his sister?' the blond laughed, his voice growing even more sinister.

'Not yet,' Ian stood firm.

'But they will be,' Morrison's grin was feral. 'Their marriage opens you up to a huge amount of scrutiny. Who knows how long you knew him for before-'

'I didn't meet him until I started here-'

'And what secrets you have fed him,' the older man ignored Ian's protest. 

'I haven't done anything wrong,' Ian said to himself more than Morrison. 'I've only ever met his sister once.'

'Rumors easily flourish,' Morrison's words curled around Ian's thoughts. 'A few words whispered into the wrong ear-'

'No,' Ian shook his head. 'I would just tell them the truth.'

'And just who would the warden trust?' the blond drawled. 'The newest guard with prisoners as relatives or the long standing employee?'

'Let me ask you again,' the red head was resigned. 'What do you want?'

'To keep my mouth shut?' Morrison smile grew.

'Yes,' Ian's reply was barely a whisper.

 'You,' the red head felt his stomach plummet. 'In my bed, whenever I feel like it.'

'And if I say no?' Ian asked.

'I will make life hard for you and have you fired,' Morrison's words were short and harsh. 'And then I will go after your friend.'

'Wait what?' He whipped his red hair up to face Morrison.

'Milkovich,' the blond smirked. 'I will have him, I will ruin him, and then I will destroy him.'

 'Fine,' Ian uttered.

'Fine what?' The red head could hear the glee in the older mans voice.

 'You can have me,' the younger man whispered.

 'I can have you where?' Morrison pushed.

'In your bed,' Ian replied. 

'When?' Morrison took a step towards Ian, bought a hand to the red heads chin and lifted his head.

'Whenever you feel like it,' Ian shuddered. 

'Excellent,' Morrison lent forward and captured Ian's mouth with his own. His kiss was rough and possessive. 'I will see you tonight then.'

 Ian watched as the blond man left, never before had he felt so dirty. As he made his way back home he tried to steady his breathing. Hopefully he didn't just make a huge mistake.

 

–

 

 **May 31** **st** **1962, Two weeks, Six days later**

 

_50\. TOBACCO AND SMOKING REGULATIONS: Pipe and cigarette tobacco is available from the dispensers at the West-End of the cell house. Take what you need for immediate use, not to exceed six packs altogether. Don't hoard tobacco. Don't waste tobacco._

 

Smoking in the recreation yard was one of Mickey's favorite past times. He was going over plans with the Anglin brothers, taking great joy in blowing his smoke in their faces. Neither of them were fond of his habit, but they knew he would have to give it up once they escaped so they tolerated it for the time being. Most of the time.

'Why'd you always have to do that?' John scowled.

 'Cause I only have a short time till I'll be forced to quit,' Mickey smirked. 'You know that.'

'I'm sure you'll be able to buy cigarettes on the outside,' John grunted.

 'Once the heat has died down,' Mickey rolled his eyes as both brothers scowls grew deeper. 'All right,' he stuffed out his cigarette. 'I'll leave it for now.'

 

_Cigarettes: One pack of cigarettes may be issued to each inmate in good standing, each Monday, Wednesday and Friday evening. Inmates who are restricted or on report will not receive cigarettes. You are not permitted to have more than 3 packs (60 cigarettes) at any one time. If you are found to have in excess of 60 cigarettes at any one time, all will be confiscated and you will be placed on a disciplinary report._

 

'Milkovich,' A familiar voice shouted over the recreation yard. 'Are you plotting something already?'

'No Sir,' Mickey rolled his eyes at Morrison, every little thing seemed to annoy the blond man these days. 'Just chatting.'

'Well how about you loiter somewhere else-'

'Morrison,' another guard interrupted. 'Swap with Gallagher.'

 

_Matches: Matches and cigarette papers are distributed during bathlines. Do not accumulate more than 10 books of matches nor more than two of the 150-paper size books of cigarette papers._

 

The brunette watched as the blond man brushed himself against the red head, the younger man flinched at his touch. Mickey scowled before stalking towards the taller man, ignoring the Anglin brother's protests.

'Everything okay Gallagher?' The brunette asked.

'F-fine,' the guards voice shook.

'Want a smoke?' He continued to press, he lit one up for himself as the red head shook his head. 'Suit yourself.'

 

_Smoking: Smoking regulations vary for different areas. If in doubt, ask your foreman or Officer. No smoking is permitted in the Cell house at any time except within the cells, library or "A" Block._

 

'Mick- Milkovich,' Gallagher's voice shook.

'Yep?' the brunette could feel his eyebrow lifting as he faced the red head.

'I know you said we couldn't be friends,' the red head's voice trembled. 'But what about after?'

'After what Gallagher?' Mickey stepped forward.

'After you get out,' the other man finished quietly. 'You think we could be something?'

'Shit don't talk about that here Gallagher,' Mickey stepped back. 'Someone might overhear.'

 

_Smoking is not permitted in the dining room or kitchen except for certain areas assigned for kitchen workers. Smoking is permitted in the yard but not between the yard and your place of work._

 

The red head looked at the brunette before turning and walking away. Mickey could feel his hear sink into his stomach, he never had seen such a tall man look so small. He snuffed out his cigarette and shouted at the other man. 

'Gallagher,' Mickey thumbed his lip as the taller man turned to face him. 'Sure, why not.'

'Sure what?' The red head question. 

'Sure why not,' Mickey repeated, he forced a small smile. 'After I get out maybe we could be friends or something.'

'Or something?' Ian asked, the actual question unspoken.

'Yeah,' the brunette nodded. 'Or something.'

The smile on Gallagher’s face made it all worth while.

 

 

Ian felt filthy, his skin crawled and itched. He knew even if he scrubbed for days he would never be clean enough. It had been an age since he had felt so worthless. 

'Night Ian,' Morrison cooed at him before placing a kiss on his forehead and turning the light out. 

Ian just lay there, unable to move, unable to breathe. He was stiff, just waiting for the blond man next to him to fall asleep. It had only been a couple of weeks since he and Morrison started this thing, and Ian was almost at the point where he was throwing up every time he knew he'd have to see the blond man.

How long could he keep this up for? How long would Morrison keep this up for? How long till the older man got bored and moved on? What if Morrison didn't leave Mickey alone as promised? The officer seemed to have it out for the prisoner. Mickey had told him to leave it alone but Ian was never good at doing what he was told. Which is why he always ended up in positions such as these.

It wasn't the first time that Ian had used sex as a bargaining chip. Back when he was younger, far too young to make adult decisions, he had used sex to find employment, and then used sex to keep his employment. He had even traded sex for flavors, believing himself to be aware of all the consequences. Of course when he turned down Sargent Ned Lishman his dreams of entering the army and becoming an officer were shattered. He had sworn off sex as a currency since, and then Mickey came along. 

The red head had no idea why he had felt so drawn to the brunette. But from the first time he had seen him something inside of Ian started to yearn. He wanted to know Mickey, learn his story. The few glimpses the prisoner had given him into his life were not enough. And his eyes, Ian could drown in those dark blue pools.

Ian jumped as the older man rolled over in his sleep, Ian had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed the way the blond's breath slowed. Morrison looked so peaceful, almost angelic in his sleep. As he felt a shiver run down his spine he knew it was time to go. He slowly wriggled his way out of bed, desperate not to wake the sleeping man. Eventually he was able to slide onto the floor and was able to stand and collect his scattered clothes.

As he dressed himself his mind began to wander again. What would happen if he reported Morrison for misconduct, what would happen to Ian. Ian couldn't lose his job, his family needed the accommodation and the income. And if he reported Morrison for abuse towards prisoner's how would the older man retaliate. He was senior to Ian, he could do a lot of damage, but would it be worth it. For Morrison to be placed on probation, for Mickey to be left alone, for everything to be okay, was Ian willing to pay the price. 

Ian took one final look at the sleeping man and then left the apartment. He closed the door behind him and made his way out of the single berths towards the family units. He had made his decision.

 

 

 _**June 1** _ _**st** _ _**1962,** _

 

_16\. CONTRABAND. Anything found on your person, or in your cell, or at your work place, which was not Officially issued to you, or Officially approved and purchased by you, and Officially listed on your property card, will be classed as contraband. Possession of contraband of any sort is a serious offense and will result in disciplinary action. If you steal anything from other inmates or from employees, or from the Institution, you will be punished._

 

Mickey eyes snapped open as his cell lit up, the harsh white light flooded the cell and his door soon crashed open. He could hear the stirrings of other prisoners being awoken by the commotion. 

'Gallagher?' The brunette's voice shook.

'Not here,' Morrison's laugh was harsh. 'He's been placed on night duties until further notice.' 

'Why are you here then?' Mickey scowled, rubbing his eyes and sitting upright.

'Contraband search,' the blond smirked, stepping into the brunette's cell. 'We got a tip that you have banned items in your possession. Step towards your cells door and press your back against the bars, I will need to cuff your hands to them.' 

Mickey stepped forward and did as instructed, wincing as the harsh metal cuffs closed over his wrists. 

'You will not struggle as we search your cell, any sounds made, any attempts to misdirect the search will end with your confinement in the hole. Any contraband we discover will end with your confinement in the cells,' Morrison continued. 'Any questions?' Mickey shook his head. 

Morrison then nodded at two other guards who rushed into Mickey's cell and began to tear it apart. The brunette watched as the guards began to pull apart his cell, silently hoping that they wouldn't check the grate at the back of his cell too carefully. The grate which was no longer metal, but a cardboard cut out to conceal the man size hole he had spent months digging.

Mickey cringed as his mattress was sliced down the middle, the stuffing removed and tossed all over the floor. His precious books were opened and shaken until something finally dropped to the floor. It was one of the digging implements that he had previously used and had managed to keep hidden for months. 

'You've done it now Milkovich,' Morrison's smile was feral. 'Shiv's are banned. You're going to the hole. Leave it boys, we've found what we were looking for.' 

Mickey tried not to look too relieved as Morrison uncuffed his from his cell door and began to cart him towards solitary. One of the guards began to straighten the brunette's things, the taller man growled at him.

'Leave it,' the blonds voice was nasty. 'He can clean it himself when he returns.'

'But Morrison Sir,' the guard squeaked. 'Protocol states-' 

'I don't give a fuck what protocol states,' Morrison spat. 'Milkovich is a troublemaker, he is worse than the shit the birds leave us, he can clean up his own mess.'

Mickey tried to keep calm as Morrison yanked his away and dragged him towards D Block and the solitary cells. After what seemed like an age he was finally walked past the dangerous prisoners and towards the punishment cells.

 

_7\. TREATMENT UNIT is the segregation section of the Institution where privileges may be restricted to a minimum._

 

'Open cell 12,' the blond guard shouted, a twisted grin stretched across his face. 

Mickey took in a deep breath as he heard the heavy cell door in front of him unlock. He watched as another guard opened the heavy door and walked inside the cell. There was another barred door with a padlock attached to it, the guard made short work of it before he finally opened the second door.

'Into the hole,' Morrison laughed, throwing Mickey into one of the cells. He locked the bars behind him. 'Maybe if you're a good boy we'll remember to feed you tomorrow.'

 

_6\. DISCIPLINARY ACTION may result in loss of some or all of your privileges and/or confinement in the Treatment Unit._

 

The brunette watched helplessly as the blond man locked the first set of bars, he then tossed a box of matches at him. 

'Enjoy the dark,' Morrison glared at Mickey one last time before he closed the final door and the darkness enveloped Mickey.

 

–

 

 _**June 4** _ _**th** _ _**1962, Three Days Later** _

 

Mickey could hear the door unlock and light flooded through the first door. A figure approached the bars before unlocking them and gesturing for Mickey to follow. The brunette scrambled to his feet and stumbled forward. He felt hands grab him and hold his upright.

'We'll help you to the dining room,' the guard, Jameson, stated. 'And then you will return to your normal cell. You will be placed on probation for the next three months, if you keep to your best behavior we'll reinstate your mail privileges in 30 days. On the odd occasion you may be called for work duties, if you don't feel as though you can complete basic tasks let us know tonight. Any questions?'

'No,' Mickey croaked. 'I'm ready.'

As the guards marched him to the dining area Mickey felt a smile blossom across his face. A week, he decided whilst crouched in the dark. A week to let himself get better and then he would escape. They were ready and he had finally had enough. He was ready to leave Alcatraz.

 

**June 11** **th** **1962, 21:30, One week Later**

 

'Lights out,' A guard shouted.

Mickey held his breath as his cell was plunged into darkness. He listened for the footsteps of the guards as they walked down the cells, performing their count and back again. Soon there was silence. 

Mickey crawled out of bed and removed the section of the wall he had spent months chiseling away at. He climbed up the service shaft to the top and grabbed the dummy heads they had spent months crafting. He crawled back down and gently knocked on West's and the Anglin brother's ventilation shafts. 

'Tonight's the night,' Mickey told each of them. 'Prep your dummy and meet me on the roof.'

Mickey crawled back into his cell and tucked the dummy head under the covers. He grabbed a few small belongings, the only photo he had of his sister and then crawled back into the utility corridor. He replaced the ventilation vent before starting to once again crawl up the pipes. He noticed Clarence trying to pull the grill off West's ventilation shaft, his attempts were clearly unsuccessful.

'Leave him,' Mickey hissed. 'This is our only shot.'

Clarence nodded at him before whispering a hushed apology to West. Mickey waited until the younger man started to climb the pipes before he proceeded to do so again, they quickly reached the top. John was waiting for them, the raft rolled into a ball. Mickey grabbed the life jackets, oars and the makeshift pump and handed them to Clarence. He motioned to the brothers for a boost, and carefully unscrewed the rooftop ventilator cover. He pulled himself up through the hole and planted his feet firmly on the roof, the fresh air hitting him, it was the first time he had seen the stars for years. 

'Milkovich,' one of the brothers hissed. 'Stop stargazing and grab the gear.'

'All right,' Mickey scowled. 'Hurry up then, start with the oars.'

As per the plan the brothers passed the oars, the pump, and the life jackets up through the shaft. Clarence scrambled up behind them as two men were needed to yank the raft up through the vent, it felt like an age but if finally came through with a gentle pop. Finally the two men on the roof helped the final Anglin brother scramble up the shaft. When all three men's feet were planted firmly on the roof they all breathed easier. 

'Come on,' Mickey chuckled after a moment. 'Lets get out of here.' 

Avoiding the search lights they scurried across the roof, scaled down the side of the building and eventually slipped into the night.

 

–

 **June 11** **th** **1962, Twenty Minutes Later**

 

Ian Gallagher was bored, he wasn't enjoying his night shift at all. At least if he was in the cell block he could play cards with the other guards, but out on watch he was alone. He played with his torch, running it along the ground, seeing if he could locate any of the small birds that would occasionally roost at night. Instead he caught sight of something quite unusual. A large black shape seemed to be moving slowly towards the shoreline, three lone figures seemed to be supporting it. 

Ian shook his head, it appeared to be gone, lost to the shadows the Island seemed to thrive on. To be on the safe side the red head checked his radio, gripped his torch tightly and proceeded to climb to the ground. The climb down wasn't easy, the freezing air and the cold metal made his hands numb. When he finally reached the ground he headed down the hill towards the beach, in the distance he could see three figures. Slowly he crept towards them, they were dressed in in prisoners clothing and appeared to be inflating something. 

'Stop,' Ian stepped forward, his torch shining at the prisoners. 'Or I will sound the alarm.'

'Gallagher?' A familiar voice came out of the darkness followed by a familiar face 

'Milkovich?' Ian's brow furrowed. 'What are you doing out here?' 

'We're going for a midnight stroll,' The prisoner lifted an expressive eyebrow. 'What does it look like we're doing?'

'Attempting to escape?' the young guard squeaked. 

'Ding ding ding,' Mickey smirked. 'We have a winner.' 

'Milkovich,' one of the other prisoners hissed. 'What are you doing?' 

'Yeah,' the other snarled. 'Knock him out.' 

'Look,' Milkovich took a step towards the guard. 'Gallagher... Ian. I don't want to have to knock you out, when you don't radio in when your sposed to it will raise the alarm. We're almost done here, just let us go and maybe we'll be okay.'

'M-Mickey,' Ian stuttered. 'I don't want to get in trouble. I could lose my job-' 

'Shhh,' Mickey took another step towards the guard and placed a finger over his lips. 'Pretend you didn't see nothing.'

'Milkovich,' a prisoner hissed. 'Raft's inflated, we need to go.'

'If you need to call it in do it,' Mickey muttered before taking a step backwards. 'But give us a head start at least?' 

The red head slowly nodded, earning himself a grin from the shorter man. He nodded before running towards the raft.

'Wait!' Ian called out and ran towards the shorter man. 'Please!' 

'What Gallagher?' Mickey scowled turning to face the read head. 'If we don't leave soon we will miss the tide.'

'I-Just-' Ian swallowed and then grabbed Mickey by the scruff of his shirt and wrenched him forward. He planted a kiss on the shorter man before he released his grip and let him go. 'I just wanted to do that before you left.' 

'You really know how to knock a guy off his game Gallagher,' Mickey raised a single eyebrow and smirked. 

'Well,' Ian shrugged, a grin broke across his mouth. 'I would have always regretted it if I hadn't done it.'

'Hurry up Milkovich,' Clarence scowled. 'You're the one who has this planned down to the minute. If we don't leave now we wont get another chance.' 

'Gotta skip town Gallagher,' Mickey grinned. 'Tell you what, if I survive this, maybe I'll meet you at the pier overlooking those sea lions you went on about.' 

'I will see you then,' Ian nodded. 

The smaller man quickly looked back at his fellow escapee's before he turned pressed a quick kiss against Ian's mouth.

'It was nice to know ya Ian,' he whispered before turning to run and join his friends.

Ian licked his lips before he watched Mickey board the makeshift raft and disappear into the distance. His radio crackled to life. 

'Anything to report Gallagher?'

'Uh,' He began, raising the radio to his mouth. 'Nothing to report.'

 

–

 

 **June 12** **th** **1962, Two Hours Later**

 

They had been paddling for what seemed like a lifetime, the three men were growing tired, their arms felt like lead and their stomachs were starting to grumble with hunger. Mickey's frustration was starting to grow, Clarence had begun to mutter under his breath, his voice shaking with nerves.

'What?' Mickey snapped at the younger man. 

'I thought we were heading to Angel Island,' Clarence muttered. 'But I can't make it out or anything. All I see is the city lights getting closer.' 

'Nope,' Mickey chuckled. 'I just wanted people to think that's where we're heading.'

'Then where are we heading?' John growled. 'Cause I'm just bout ready to give up.'

'Don't be a fool,' Clarence hissed at his brother. 'Mickey has a plan right?' He looked at the older man. 'Right?' 

'Course,' Mickey grinned. 'We'll ride the currents to the east of the bridge. Hopefully we'll be long gone by the time they think of searching anywhere other than the island.' 

'And then we'll be free?' A voice glimmered with hope.

'Then we will be free.'

 

–

 **June 12** **th** **1962, 7:18**

 

On the morning of June 12 th  1962 three prisoners were found to have escaped the inescapable prison. A guard had nudged one of the prisoners only to be shocked as a dummy head rolled onto the floor. The alarm was sounded, the prison went into lock down. The FBI arrived quickly and managed to track the prisoners to the shoreline. In the days that followed they searched the harbor and found pieces of debris and personal items belonging to the prisoners. They interviewed Allen West and were able to determine the prisoners plans. 

The plan was to steal a car and clothes, no such crimes were reported. The prisoners had no family or friends who had the resources to come to San Francisco and assist the prisoners, and the cost of putting a boat in the bay at night would have been well out of their means. The waters of the bay were freezing cold, they would have frozen to death after twenty minutes of exposure. 

The escape was deemed and failure, and the three men presumed dead.

 

**June 12** **th** **1982, Twenty Years Later**

 

A red head lent against the railing of a peer, he was wearing washed out jeans and a matching denim jacket. He appeared to be in his forties, strands of silver were beginning to dilute the flaming color of his hair. To his left were the not so gentle shouts of the sea lions begging for food as tourists snapped their photo's. To the right of him a line of telescopes, if you pay a quarter you can see Alcatraz, the mythic prison up close. The red head had been lingering at the peer for a couple of hours now, waiting for a ghost of a memory. He had watched many people walk by but none had caught his interest. 

That was until a dark haired man swaggered over to the telescopes and roughly inserted a quarter. The red heads mouth curled into a smile, he bounced himself off the railing and sauntered towards the clearly shorter man. The dark haired man bent over and peered through the telescope as the red head came to a stop beside him.

'It's something isn't it,' The red head began, running a hand through his hair. 'Have you ever been to the Island?' 

'Not in this lifetime,' The brunette turned to look at the taller man. 'Though my cousin was imprisoned there.' 

'Oh really?' The red heads smile threatened to grow bigger. 'Anyone I might know?' 

'Mikhailo Milkovich,' The brunette smirked back. 'One of the only men to escape the island.'

'I thought no one knew if they survived,' the red head cocked his head. 

'Well maybe I can confirm they did,' the brunette chuckled. 'What's your name red?'

'Ian Gallagher,' the red head offered his hand to the brunette. 'And yours?'

'Michael Milkovich,' the brunette shook the proffered hand. 'But you can call me Mickey.' 

Ian burst into laughter, soon the shorter man joined him.

'I didn't expect to see you here,' Mickey smirked. 'Don't tell me you've been waiting for me.'

'Not really,' Ian flushed red. 'But I have been coming here every day on the anniversary of the escape, hoping to run into an old friend.' 

'Yeah?' the brunette smirk gave way to a smile. 

'Yeah,' Ian smiled back.

'So what now man?' Mickey looked at Ian, allowing himself to really see the taller man for the first time. 

'Wanna see the Island from an outside perspective?' Ian pulled two pieces of paper from his pocket. 'I got tickets.'

'You really expect me to go back there?' The brunette raised an eyebrow. 'After I escaped from the inescapable prison?

'Yep,' Ian grinned. 'Tell me what it was really like, and not the fancy version they tell the tourists.' 

'And then?' Mickey crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

'I'll take you out for dinner,' Ian stepped closer to the shorter man. 'And then I'll take you home.' 

'I'm counting on that,' Mickey chuckled before he pulled the taller man into a chaste kiss, the island which once they lived on providing a perfect backdrop to their first free kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sources used;
> 
> Alcatraz – The true end of the line – Darwin Coon  
> Alcatraz: A Definitive History of the Penitentiary Years – Michael Esslinger  
> Mythbusters - Escape from Alcatraz – Season 1, Episode 11
> 
> For entertainment value, Clint Eastwood in “Escape from Alcatraz” is worth the watch as is the TV Series “Alcatraz” produced by JJ Abrams.
> 
> I have recently joined tumblr under the same handle, so please come and say hi!


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